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Bebolde ;  fee  bol&e- 





•  OR;  OF-  CHASTITY  • 





LNG  CROSS  ROAD-  189S  •  # 






Title-Page  Page  v 


Stanza  63 

Stanza  59 
Stanza  33 





VII.    Stanza  37 
IX.        .    ■  . 


Stanza  44 

Page  531 

















Frologue  . 

Page  529 

Canto    I.      ..  -V  :  .<,-,-•  *         -i           •  •      *  !-  533 

II   56i 

in.    .  ':  ;    .     .         \i.  •  .'581 

IV   6o7 

V.  633 

VI   655 

VII   677 

VIII.        .       .       •       .       .       •       •  7°3 

IX   723 

X   743 

XI.         .......  769 

XII   79 1 


Canto  I. 


Page  557 









T  falles  me  here  to  write  of  Chastity, 
The  fayrest  vertue,  far  above  the  rest : 
For  which  what  needes  me  fetch  from  Faery 
Forreine  ensamples  it  to  have  exprest  ? 
Sith  it  is  shrined  in  my  Soveraines  brest, 
And  formd  so  lively  in  each  perfect  part, 
That  to  all  Ladies,  which  have  it  profest, 
Need  but  behold  the  pourtraidt  of  her  hart ; 
If  pourtrayd  it  might  bee  by  any  living  art. 

But  living  art  may  not  least  part  expresse, 
Nor  life-resembling  pencill  it  can  paynt : 
All  were  it  Zeuxis  or  Praxiteles, 
His  dasdale  hand  would  faile  and  greatly  faynt, 
And  her  perfections  with  his  error  taynt : 
Ne  Poets  witt,  that  passeth  Painter  farre 
In  picturing  the  parts  of  beauty  daynt, 
So  hard  a  workemanship  adventure  darre, 
For  fear,  through  want  of  words,  her  excellence  to  marre. 






Book  III. 

How  then  shall  I,  Apprentice  to  the  skill 
That  whilome  in  divinest  wits  did  rayne, 
Presume  so  high  to  stretch  mine  humble  quill  ? 
Yet  now  my  luckelesse  lott  doth  me  constrayne 
Hereto  perforce.    But,  O  dredd  Soverayne ! 
Thus  far-forth  pardon,  sith  that  choicest  witt 
Cannot  your  glorious  pourtraicl:  figure  playne, 
That  I  in  colourd  showes  may  shadow  itt, 
And  antique  praises  unto  present  persons  fitt. 

But  if  in  living  colours,  and  right  hew, 
Thy  selfe  thou  covet  to  see  pictured, 
Who  can  it  doe  more  lively,  or  more  trew, 
Then  that  sweete  verse,  with  Neftar  sprinckeled, 
In  which  a  gracious  servaunt  pictured 
His  Cynthia,  his  heavens  fayrest  light  ? 
That  with  his  melting  sweetnes  ravished, 
And  with  the  wonder  of  her  beames  bright, 
My  sences  lulled  are  in  slomber  of  delight. 

But  let  that  same  delitious  Poet  lend 
A  little  leave  unto  a  rusticke  Muse 
To  sing  his  mistresse  prayse ;  and  let  him  mend, 
If  ought  amis  her  liking  may  abuse : 
Ne  let  his  fayrest  Cynthia  refuse 
In  mirrours  more  then  one  her  selfe  to  see  ; 
But  either  Gloriana  let  her  chuse, 
Or  in  Belphcebe  fashioned  to  bee ; 
In  th'one  her  rule,  in  th'other  her  rare  chastitee. 



HE  famous  Briton  Prince  and  Faerie  knight, 
After  long  wayes  and  perilous  paines  endur'd, 
Having  their  weary  limbes  to  perfect  plight 
Restord,  and  sory  wounds  right  well  recur'd, 
Of  the  faire  Alma  greatly  were  procur'd 
To  make  there  lenger  sojourne  and  abode ; 
But  when  thereto  they  might  not  be  allur'd, 
From  seeking  praise  and  deeds  of  armes  abrode, 
They  courteous  conge  tooke,  and  forth  together  yode. 

But  the  captiv'd  Acrasia  he  sent, 
Because  of  traveill  long,  a  nigher  way, 
With  a  strong  gard,  all  reskew  to  prevent, 
And  her  to  Faery  court  safe  to  convay ; 
That  her  for  witnes  of  his  hard  assay 
Unto  his  Faery  Queene  he  might  present : 
But  he  him  selfe  betooke  another  way, 
To  make  more  triall  of  his  hardiment, 
And  seek  adventures  as  he  with  Prince  Arthure  went. 


>I  :  




Book  m 
Canto  I. 

Long  so  they  travelled  through  wastefull  wayes, 
Where  daungers  dwelt,  and  perils  most  did  wonne, 
To  hunt  for  glory  and  renowmed  prayse. 
Full  many  Countreyes  they  did  overronne, 
From  the  uprising  to  the  setting  Sunne, 
And  many  hard  adventures  did  atchieve ; 
Of  all  the  which  they  honour  ever  wonne, 
Seeking  the  weake  oppressed  to  relieve, 
And  to  recover  right  for  such  as  wrong  did  grieve. 

At  last,  as  through  an  open  plaine  they  yode, 
They  spide  a  knight  that  towards  pricked  fayre ; 
And  him  beside  an  aged  Squire  there  rode, 
That  seemd  to  couch  under  his  shield  three-square, 
As  if  that  age  badd  him  that  burden  spare, 
And  yield  it  those  that  stouter  could  it  wield. 
He  them  espying  gan  him  selfe  prepare, 
And  on  his  arme  addresse  his  goodly  shield 
That  bore  a  Lion  passant  in  a  golden  field. 

Which  seeing,  good  Sir  Guyon  deare  besought 
The  Prince  of  grace  to  let  him  ronne  that  turne. 
He  graunted :  then  the  Faery  quickly  raught 
His  poynant  speare,  and  sharply  gan  to  spurne 
His  fomy  steed,  whose  fiery  feete  did  burne 
The  verdant  gras  as  he  thereon  did  tread ; 
Ne  did  the  other  backe  his  foote  returne, 
But  fiercely  forward  came  withouten  dread, 
And  bent  his  dreadful  speare  against  the  others  head. 


They  beene  ymett,  and  both  theyr  points  arriv'd ; 
But  Guyon  drove  so  furious  and  fell, 
That  seemd  both  shield  and  plate  it  would  have  riv'd ; 
Nathelesse  it  bore  his  foe  not  from  his  sell, 
But  made  him  stagger,  as  he  were  not  well : 
But  Guyon  selfe,  ere  well  he  was  aware, 
Nigh  a  speares  length  behind  his  crouper  fell ; 
Yet  in  his  fall  so  well  him  selfe  he  bare, 
That  mischievous  mischaunce  his  life  and  limbs  did  spare. 

Book  III. 
Canto  I. 

Great  shame  and  sorrow  of  that  fall  he  tooke ; 
For  never  yet,  sith  warlike  armes  he  bore 
And  shivering  speare  in  bloody  field  first  shooke, 
He  fownd  him  selfe  dishonored  so  sore. 
Ah !  gentlest  knight,  that  ever  armor  bore, 
Let  not  thee  grieve  dismounted  to  have  beene, 
And  brought  to  grownd  that  never  wast  before ; 
For  not  thy  fault,  but  secret  powre  unseene  : 
That  speare  enchaunted  was  which  layd  thee  on  the  greene. 

But  weenedst  thou  what  wight  thee  overthrew, 
Much  greater  griefe  and  shamefuller  regrett 
For  thy  hard  fortune  then  thou  wouldst  renew, 
That  of  a  single  damzell  thou  wert  mett 
On  equall  plaine,  and  there  so  hard  besett : 
Even  the  famous  Britomart  it  was, 
Whom  straunge  adventure  did  from  Britayne  sett 
To  seeke  her  lover  (love  far  sought  alas !) 
Whose  image  shee  had  seene  in  Venus  looking  glas. 


Book  III. 
Canto  I. 

Full  of  disdainefull  wrath  he  fierce  uprose 
For  to  revenge  that  fowle  reprochefull  shame, 
And  snatching  his  bright  sword  began  to  close 
With  her  on  foot,  and  stoutly  forward  came : 
Dye  rather  would  he  then  endure  that  same. 
Which  when  his  Palmer  saw,  he  gan  to  feare 
His  toward  perill,  and  untoward  blame, 
Which  by  that  new  rencounter  he  should  reare ; 
For  death  sate  on  the  point  of  that  enchaunted  speare 

And  hasting  towards  him  gan  fayre  perswade 
Not  to  provoke  misfortune,  nor  to  weene 
His  speares  default  to  mend  with  cruell  blade ; 
For  by  his  mightie  Science  he  had  seene 
The  secrete  vertue  of  that  weapon  keene, 
That  mortall  puissaunce  mote  not  withstond. 
Nothing  on  earth  mote  alwaies  happy  beene  : 
Great  hazard  were  it,  and  adventure  fond, 
To  loose  long  gotten  honour  with  one  evill  hond. 

By  such  good  meanes  he  him  discounselled 
.  From  prosecuting  his  revenging  rage  : 
And  eke  the  Prince  like  treaty  handeled, 
His  wrathfull  will  with  reason  to  aswage ; 
And  laid  the  blame,  not  to  his  carriage, 
But  to  his  starting  steed  that  swarv'd  asyde, 
And  to  the  ill  purveyaunce  of  his  page, 
That  had  his  furnitures  not  firmely  tyde. 
So  is  his  angry  corage  fayrly  pacifyde. 


Thus  reconcilement  was  betweene  them  knitt, 
Through  goodly  temperaunce  and  affection  chaste ; 
And  either  vowd  with  all  their  power  and  witt 
To  let  not  others  honour  be  defaste 
Of  friend  or  foe,  who  ever  it  embaste ; 
Ne  armes  to  beare  against  the  others  syde : 
In  which  accord  the  Prince  was  also  plaste, 
And  with  that  golden  chaine  of  concord  tyde. 
So  goodly  all  agreed  they  forth  yfere  did  ryde. 

O !  goodly  usage  of  those  antique  tymes, 
In  which  the  sword  was  servaunt  unto  right ; 
When  not  for  malice  and  contentious  crymes, 
But  all  for  prayse,  and  proofe  of  manly  might, 
The  martiall  brood  accustomed  to  fight : 
Then  honour  was  the  meed  of  victory, 
And  yet  the  vanquished  had  no  despight. 
Let  later  age  that  noble  use  envy, 
Vyle  rancor  to  avoid  and  cruel  surquedry. 

Long  they  thus  travelled  in  friendly  wise, 
Through  countreyes  waste,  and  eke  well  edifyde, 
Seeking  adventures  hard,  to  exercise 
Their  puissaunce,  whylome  full  dernly  tryde. 
At  length  they  came  into  a  forest  wyde, 
Whose  hideous  horror  and  sad  trembling  sownd, 
Full  griesly  seemd :  Therein  they  long  did  ryde, 
Yet  tract  of  living  creature  none  they  fownd, 
Save  Beares,  Lyons,  and  Buls,  which  romed  them  arownd. 





Book  III. 
Canto  I. 




Book  III. 
Canto  I. 

All  suddenly  out  of  the  thickest  brush, 
Upon  a  milkwhite  Palfrey  all  alone, 
A  goodly  Lady  did  foreby  them  rush, 
Whose  face  did  seeme  as  cleare  as  Christall  stone, 
And  eke,  through  feare,  as  white  as  whales  bone : 
Her  garments  all  were  wrought  of  beaten  gold, 
And  all  her  steed  with  tinsell  trappings  shone, 
Which  fledd  so  fast  that  nothing  mote  him  hold, 
And  scarse  them  leasure  gave  her  passing  to  behold. 

Still  as  she  fledd  her  eye  she  backward  threw, 
As  fearing  evill  that  poursewd  her  fast ; 
And  her  faire  yellow  locks  behind  her  flew, 
Loosely  disperst  with  puff  of  every  blast : 
All  as  a  blazing  starre  doth  farre  outcast 
His  hearie  beames,  and  flaming  lockes  dispredd, 
At  sight  whereof  the  people  stand  aghast ; 
But  the  sage  wisard  telles,  as  he  has  redd, 
That  it  importunes  death  and  dolefull  dreryhedd. 

So  as  they  gazed  after  her  a  whyle, 
Lo !  where  a  griesly  foster  forth  did  rush, 
Breathing  out  beastly  lust  her  to  defyle : 
His  tyreling  Jade  he  fiersly  forth  did  push 
Through  thicke  and  thin,  both  over  banck  and  bush, 
In  hope  her  to  attaine  by  hooke  or  crooke, 
That  from  his  gory  sydes  the  blood  did  gush. 
Large  were  his  limbes,  and  terrible  his  looke, 
And  in  his  clownish  hand  a  sharp  bore  speare  he  shooke. 


Which  outrage  when  those  gentle  knights  did  see, 
Full  of  great  envy  and  fell  gealosy 
They  stayd  not  to  avise  who  first  should  bee, 
But  all  spurd  after,  fast  as  they  mote  fly, 
To  reskew  her  from  shamefull  villany. 
The  Prince  and  Guyon  equally  bylive 
Her  selfe  pursewd,  in  hope  to  win  thereby 
Most  goodly  meede,  the  fairest  Dame  alive  : 
But  after  the  foule  foster  Timias  did  strive. 

The  whiles  faire  Britomart,  whose  constant  mind 
Would  not  so  lightly  follow  beauties  chace, 
Ne  reckt  of  Ladies  Love,  did  stay  behynd, 
And  them  awayted  there  a  certaine  space, 
To  weet  if  they  would  turne  backe  to  that  place ; 
But  when  she  saw  them  gone  she  forward  went, 
As  lay  her  journey,  through  that  perlous  Pace, 
With  stedfast  corage  and  stout  hardiment : 
Ne  evil  thing  she  feard,  ne  evill  thing  she  ment. 

At  last,  as  nigh  out  of  the  wood  she  came, 
A  stately  Castle  far  away  she  spyde, 
To  which  her  steps  directly  she  did  frame. 
That  Castle  was  most  goodly  edifyde, 
And  plaste  for  pleasure  nigh  that  forrest  syde  : 
But  faire  before  the  gate  a  spatious  playne, 
Mantled  with  greene,  it  selfe  did  spredden  wyde, 
On  which  she  saw  six  knights,  that  did  darrayne. 
Fiers  battaill  against  one  with  cruell  might  and  mayne. 


Book  III. 
Canto  I. 

Mainely  they  all  attonce  upon  him  laid, 
And  sore  beset  on  every  side  arownd, 
That  nigh  he  breathlesse  grew,  yet  nought  dismaid, 
Ne  ever  to  them  yielded  foot  of  grownd, 
All  had  he  lost  much  blood  through  many  a  wownc 
But 'stoutly  dealt  his  blowes,  and  every  way, 
To  which  he  turned  in  his  wrathfull  stownd, 
Made  them  recoile,  and  fly  from  dredd  decay, 
That  none  of  all  the  six  before  him  durst  assay. 

Like  dastard  Curres  that,  having  at  a  bay 
The  salvage  beast  embost  in  wearie  chace, 
Dare  not  adventure  on  the  stubborne  pray, 
Ne  byte  before,  but  rome  from  place  to  place 
To  get  a  snatch  when  turned  is  his  face 
In  such  distresse  and  doubtfull  jeopardy 
When  Britomart  him  saw,  she  ran  apace 
Unto  his  reskew,  and  with  earnest  cry 
Badd  those  same  six  forbeare  that  single  enimy. 

But  to  her  cry  they  list  not  lenden  eare, 
Ne  ought  the  more  their  mightie  strokes  surceasse. 
But  gathering  him  rownd  about  more  neare, 
Their  direfull  rancour  rather  did  encreasse ; 
Till  that  she  rushing  through  the  thickest  preasse 
Perforce  disparted  their  compacted  gyre, 
And  soone  compeld  to  hearken  unto  peace. 
Tho  gan  she  myldly  of  them  to  inquyre 
The  cause  of  their  dissention  and  outrageous  yre. 


Whereto  that  single  knight  did  answere  frame : 
"  These  six  would  me  enforce  by  oddes  of  might 
To  chaunge  my  liefe,  and  love  another  Dame  ; 
That  death  me  liefer  were  then  such  despight, 
So  unto  wrong  to  yield  my  wrested  right : 
For  I  love  one,  the  truest  one  on  grownd, 
Ne  list  me  chaunge ;  she  th'  Errant  Damzell  hight ; 
For  whose  deare  sake  full  many  a  bitter  stownd 
I  have  endurd,  and  tasted  many  a  bloody  wownd." 

Book  III. 
Canto  I. 

"  Certes,"  (said  she)  "  then  beene  ye  sixe  to  blame, 
To  weene  your  wrong  by  force  to  justify  ; 
For  knight  to  leave  his  Lady  were  great  shame 
That  faithfull  is,  and  better  were  to  dy. 
All  losse  is  lesse,  and  lesse  the  infamy, 
Then  losse  of  love  to  him  that  loves  but  one : 
Ne  may  love  be  compeld  by  maistery ; 
For  soone  as  maistery  comes  sweet  Love  anone 
Taketh  his  nimble  winges,  and  soone  away  is  gone." 

Then  spake  one  of  those  six  ;  "  There  dwelleth  here 
Within  this  castle  wall  a  Lady  fayre, 
Whose  soveraine  beautie  hath  no  living  pere ; 
Thereto  so  bounteous  and  so  debonayre, 
That  never  any  mote  with  her  compayre : 
She  hath  ordaind  this  law,  which  we  approve, 
That  every  knight  which  doth  this  way  repayre, 
In  case  he  have  no  Lady  nor  no  love, 
Shall  doe  unto  her  service,  never  to  remove : 


THE  "  But  if  he  have  a  Lady  or  a  Love, 


OUEENE  Then  must  he  her  forgoe  with  fowle  defame, 

Book  III.  Of  els  with  us  by  dint  of  sword  approve, 

Cant0  *•  That  she  is  fairer  then  our  fairest  Dame ; 

As  did  this  knight,  before  ye  hither  came." 

"  Perdy,"  (said  Britomart)  "  the  choise  is  hard ; 

But  what  reward  had  he  that  overcame  ?  " 

"  He  should  advaunced  bee  to  high  regard," 
(Said  they)  "  and  have  our  Ladies  love  for  his  reward. 

"  Therefore  aread,  Sir,  if  thou  have  a  love." 
"  Love  have  I  sure,"  (quoth  she)  "  but  Lady  none ; 
Yet  will  I  not  fro  mine  own  love  remove, 
Ne  to  your  Lady  will  I  service  done, 
But  wreake  your  wronges  wrought  to  this  knight  alone, 
And  prove  his  cause."    With  that,  her  mortall  speare 
She  mightily  aventred  towards  one, 
And  downe  him  smot  ere  well  aware  he  weare ; 
Then  to  the  next  she  rode,  and  downe  the  next  did  beare. 

Ne  did  she  stay  till  three  on  ground  she  layd 
That  none  of  them  himselfe  could  reare  againe  : 
The  fourth  was  by  that  other  knight  dismayd, 
All  were  he  wearie  of  his  former  paine ; 
That  now  there  do  but  two  of  six  remaine, 
Which  two  did  yield  before  she  did  them  smight. 
"  Ah !  "  (said  she  then)  "  now  may  ye  all  see  plaine, 
That  truth  is  strong,  and  trew  love  most  of  might, 
That  for  his  trusty  servaunts  doth  so  strongly  fight." 



"  Too  well  we  see,"  (saide  they)  "  and  prove  too  well 
Our  faulty  weakenes,  and  your  matchlesse  might : 
Forthy,  faire  Sir,  yours  be  the  Damozell, 
Which  by  her  owne  law  to  your  lot  doth  light, 
And  we  your  liegemen  faith  unto  you  plight." 
So  underneath  her  feet  their  swords  they  mard, 
And,  after,  her  besought,  well  as  they  might, 
To  enter  in  and  reape  the  dew  reward. 
She  graunted ;  and  then  in  they  all  together  far'd. 




Book  III. 
Canto  I. 

Long  were  it  to  describe  the  goodly  frame, 
And  stately  port  of  Castle  Joyeous, 
(For  so  that  Castle  hight  by  commun  name) 
Where  they  were  entertaynd  with  courteous 
And  comely  glee  of  many  gratious 
Faire  Ladies,  and  of  many  a  gentle  knight, 
Who,  through  a  Chamber  long  and  spacious, 
Eftsoones  them  brought  unto  their  Ladies  sight, 
That  of  them  cleeped  was  the  Lady  of  Delight. 

But  for  to  tell  the  sumptuous  aray 
Of  that  great  chamber,  should  be  labour  lost ; 
For  living  wit,  I  weene,  cannot  display 
The  royall  riches  and  exceeding  cost 
Of  every  pillour  and  of  every  post, 
Which  all  of  purest  bullion  framed  were, 
And  with  great  perles  and  pretious  stones  embost ; 
That  the  bright  glister  of  their  beames  cleare 
Did  sparckle  forth  great  light,  and  glorious  did  appeare. 





Book  III. 
Canto  I. 

These  stranger  knights,  through  passing,  forth  were  led 
Into  an  inner  rowme,  whose  royaltee 
And  rich  purveyance  might  uneath  be  red ; 
Mote  Princes  place  be  seeme  so  deckt  to  bee. 
Which  stately  manner  whenas  they  did  see, 
The  image  of  superfluous  riotize, 
Exceeding  much  the  state  of  meane  degree, 
They  greatly  wondred  whence  so  sumptuous  guize 
Might  be  maintaynd,  and  each  gan  diversely  devize. 

The  wals  were  round  about  appareiled 
With  costly  clothes  of  Arras  and  of  Toure  ; 
In  which  with  cunning  hand  was  pourtrahed 
The  love  of  Venus  and  her  Paramoure, 
The  fayre  Adonis,  turned  to  a  flowre ; 
A  worke  of  rare  device  and  wondrous  wit. 
First  did  it  shew  the  bitter  balefull  stowre, 
Which  her  essayd  with  many  a  fervent  fit, 
When  first  her  tender  hart  was  with  his  beautie  smit. 

Then  with  what  sleights  and  sweet  allurements  she 
Entyst  the  Boy,  as  well  that  art  she  knew, 
And  wooed  him  her  Paramoure  to  bee ; 
Now  making  girlonds  of  each  flowre  that  grew, 
To  crowne  his  golden  lockes  with  honour  dew ; 
Now  leading  him  into  a  secret  shade 
From  his  Beauperes,  and  from  bright  heavens  vew, 
Where  him  to  sleepe  she  gently  would  perswade, 
Or  bathe  him  in  a  fountaine  by  some  covert  glade : 




Book  III. 

And  whilst  he  slept  she  over  him  would  spred  THE 
Her  mantle,  colour'd  like  the  starry  skves  FAERIE 
And  her  soft  arme  lay  underneath  his  hed, 

And  with  ambrosiall  kisses  bathe  his  eyes ;  cTmol 
And  whilst  he  bath'd  with  her  two  crafty  spyes 
She  secretly  would  search  each  daintie  lim, 
And  throw  into  the  well  sweet  Rosemaryes, 
And  fragrant  violets,  and  Paunces  trim ; 
And  ever  with  sweet  Neftar  she  did  sprinkle  him. 

So  did  she  steale  his  heedelesse  hart  away, 
And  joyd  his  love  in  secret  unespyde : 
But  for  she  saw  him  bent  to  cruell  play, 
To  hunt  the  salvage  beast  in  forrest  wyde, 
Dreadfull  of  daunger  that  mote  him  betyde, 
She  oft  and  oft  adviz'd  him  to  refraine 
From  chase  of  greater  beastes,  whose  brutish  pryde 
Mote  breede  him  scath  unwares :  but  all  in  vaine  ; 
For  who  can  shun  the  chance  that  dest'ny  doth  ordaine  ? 

Lo  !  where  beyond  he  lyeth  languishing, 
Deadly  engored  of  a  great  wilde  Bore ; 
And  by  his  side  the  Goddesse  groveling 
Makes  for  him  endlesse  mone,  and  evermore 
With  her  soft  garment  wipes  away  the  gore 
Which  staynes  his  snowy  skin  with  hatefull  hew  : 
But,  when  she  saw  no  helpe  might  him  restore, 
Him  to  a  dainty  flowre  she  did  transmew, 
Which  in  that  cloth  was  wrought  as  if  it  lively  grew. 





Book  III. 
Canto  I. 

So  was  that  chamber  clad  in  goodly  wize : 
And  rownd  about  it  many  beds  were  dight, 
As  whylome  was  the  antique  worldes  guize, 
Some  for  untimely  ease,  some  for  delight, 
As  pleased  them  to  use  that  use  it  might; 
And  all  was  full  of  Damzels  and  of  Squyres, 
Dauncing  and  reveling  both  day  and  night, 
And  swimming  deepe  in  sensuall  desyres ; 
And  Cupid  still  emongest  them  kindled  lustfull  fyres. 

And  all  the  while  sweet  Musicke  did  divide 
Her  looser  notes  with  Lydian  harmony ; 
And  all  the  while  sweet  birdes  thereto  applide 
Their  daintie  layes  and  dulcet  melody, 
Ay  caroling  of  love  and  jollity, 
That  wonder  was  to  heare  their  trim  consort. 
Which  when  those  knights  beheld,  with  scornefull  eye 
They  sdeigned  such  lascivious  disport, 
And  loath'd  the  loose  demeanure  of  that  wanton  sort. 

Thence  they  were  brought  to  that  great  Ladies  vew, 
Whom  they  found  sitting  on  a  sumptuous  bed 
That  glistred  all  with  gold  and  glorious  shew, 
As  the  proud  Persian  Queenes  accustomed. 
She  seemd  a  woman  of  great  bountihed, 
And  of  rare  beautie,  saving  that  askaunce 
Her  wanton  eyes,  ill  signes  of  womanhed, 
Did  roll  too  lightly,  and  too  often  glaunce, 
Without  regard  of  grace  or  comely  amenaunce. 


Long  worke  it  were,  and  needlesse,  to  devize 
Their  goodly  entertainement  and  great  glee. 
She  caused  them  be  led  in  courteous  wize 
Into  a  bowre,  disarmed  for  to  be, 
And  cheared  well  with  wine  and  spiceree : 
The  Redcrosse  Knight  was  soon  disarmed  there ; 
But  the  brave  Mayd  would  not  disarmed  bee, 
But  onely  vented  up  her  umbriere, 
And  so  did  let  her  goodly  visage  to  appere. 

As  when  fayre  Cynthia,  in  darkesome  night, 
Is  in  a  noyous  cloud  enveloped, 
Where  she  may  finde  the  substance  thin  and  light, 
Breakes  forth  her  silver  beames,  and  her  bright  hed 
Discovers  to  the  world  discomfited  : 
Of  the  poore  traveller  that  went  astray 
With  thousand  blessings  she  is  heried. 
Such  was  the  beautie  and  the  shining  ray, 
With  which  fayre  Britomart  gave  light  unto  the  day. 

And  eke  those  six,  which  lately  with  her  fought, 
Now  were  disarmd,  and  did  them  selves  present 
Unto  her  vew,  and  company  unsought ; 
For  they  all  seemed  courteous  and  gent, 
And  all  sixe  brethren,  borne  of  one  parent, 
Which  had  them  traynd  in  all  civilitee, 
And  goodly  taught  to  tilt  and  turnament : 
Now  were  they  liegmen  to  this  Ladie  free, 
And  her  knights  service  ought,  to  hold  of  her  in  fee. 

547  3  r 

Book  III. 
Canto  I. 

The  first  of  them  by  name  Gardante  hight, 
A  jolly  person,  and  of  comely  vew  ; 
The  second  was  Parlante,  a  bold  knight ; 
And  next  to  him  Jocante  did  ensew ; 
Basciante  did  him  selfe  most  courteous  shew ; 
But  fierce  Bacchante  seemd  too  fell  and  keene ; 
And  yett  in  armes  No&ante  greater  grew : 
All  were  faire  knights,  and  goodly  well  beseene ; 
But  to  faire  Britomart  they  all  but  shadowes  beene. 

For  shee  was  full  of  amiable  grace 
And  manly  terror  mixed  therewithall ; 
That  as  the  one  stird  up  affections  bace, 
So  th'other  did  mens  rash  desires  apall, 
And  hold  them  backe  that  would  in  error  fall : 
As  hee  that  hath  espide  a  vermeill  Rose, 
To  which  sharp  thornes  and  breres  the  way  forstall, 
Dare  not  for  dread  his  hardy  hand  expose, 
But  wishing  it  far  off  his  ydle  wish  doth  lose. 

Whom  when  the  Lady  saw  so  faire  a  wight, 
All  ignorant  of  her  contrary  sex, 
(For  shee  her  weend  a  fresh  and  lusty  knight,) 
Shee  greatly  gan  enamoured  to  wex 
And  with  vaine  thoughts  her  falsed  fancy  vex : 
Her  fickle  hart  conceived  hasty  fyre, 
Like  sparkes  of  fire  which  fall  in  sclender  flex, 
That  shortly  brent  into  extreme  desyre, 
And  ransackt  all  her  veines  with  passion  entyre. 


Eftsoones  shee  grew  to  great  impatience, 
And  into  termes  of  open  outrage  brust, 
That  plaine  discovered  her  incontinence ; 
Ne  reckt  shee  who  her  meaning  did  mistrust, 
For  she  was  given  all  to  fleshly  lust, 
And  poured  forth  in  sensuall  delight, 
That  all  regard  of  shame  she  had  discust, 
And  meet  respect  of  honor  putt  to  flight : 
So  shamelesse  beauty  soone  becomes  a  loathly  sight 

Faire  Ladies,  that  to  love  captived  arre, 
And  chaste  desires  doe  nourish  in  your  mind, 
Let  not  her  fault  your  sweete  affections  marre, 
Ne  blott  the  bounty  of  all  womankind, 
'Mongst  thousands  good  one  wanton  Dame  to  find : 
Emongst  the  Roses  grow  some  wicked  weeds : 
For  this  was  not  to  love,  but  lust,  inclind ; 
For  love  does  alwaies  bring  forth  bounteous  deeds, 
And  in  each  gentle  hart  desire  of  honor  breeds. 

Nought  so  of  love  this  looser  Dame  did  skill, 
But  as  a  coale  to  kindle  fleshly  flame, 
Giving  the  bridle  to  her  wanton  will, 
And  treading  under  foote  her  honest  name  : 
Such  love  is  hate,  and  such  desire  is  shame. 
Still  did  she  rove  at  her  with  crafty  glaunce 
Of  her  false  eies,  that  at  her  hart  did  ayme, 
And  told  her  meaning  in  her  countenaunce ; 
But  Britomart  dissembled  it  with  ignoraunce. 


Book  HI; 
Canto  I. 




Book  III. 
Canto  I. 

Supper  was  shortly  dight,  and  downe  they  sat ; 
Where  they  were  served  with  all  sumptuous  fare, 
Whiles  fruitfull  Ceres  and  Lyasus  fat 
Pourd  out  their  plenty  without  spight  or  spare. 
Nought  wanted  there  that  dainty  was  and  rare, 
And  aye  the  cups  their  bancks  did  overflow 
And  aye  betweene  the  cups  she  did  prepare 
Way  to  her  love,  and  secret  darts  did  throw ; 
But  Britomart  would  not  such  guilfull  message  know. 

So,  when  they  slaked  had  the  fervent  heat 
Of  appetite  with  meates  of  every  sort, 
The  Lady  did  faire  Britomart  entreat 
Her  to  disarme,  and  with  delightfull  sport 
To  loose  her  warlike  limbs  and  strong  effort ; 
But  when  shee  mote  not  thereunto  be  wonne, 
(For  shee  her  sexe  under  that  straunge  purport 
Did  use  to  hide,  and  plaine  apparaunce  shonne) 
In  playner  wise  to  tell  her  grievaunce  she  begonne. 

And  all  attonce  discovered  her  desire 
With  sighes,  and  sobs,  and  plaints,  and  piteous  griefe, 
The  outward  sparkes  of  her  inburning  fire  ; 
Which  spent  in  vaine,  at  last  she  told  her  briefe, 
That  but  if  she  did  lend  her  short  reliefe 
And  doe  her  comfort,  she  mote  algates  dye  : 
But  the  chaste  damzell,  that  had  never  priefe 
Of  such  malengine  and  fine  forgerye, 
Did  easely  beleeve  her  strong  extremitye. 


Full  easy  was  for  her  to  have  beliefe, 
Who  by  self-feeling  of  her  feeble  sexe, 
And  by  long  triall  of  the  inward  griefe 
Wherewith  imperious  love  her  hart  did  vexe, 
Could  judge  what  paines  doe  loving  harts  perplexe 
Who  meanes  no  guile  be  guiled  soonest  shall, 
And  to  faire  semblaunce  doth  light  faith  annexe : 
The  bird  that  knowes  not  the  false  fowlers  call, 
Into  his  hidden  nett  full  easely  doth  fall. 

Forthy  she  would  not  in  discourteise  wise 
Scorne  the  faire  offer  of  good  will  profest ; 
For  great  rebuke  it  is  love  to  despise, 
Or  rudely  sdeigne  a  gentle  harts  request ; 
But  with  faire  countenaunce,  as  beseemed  best, 
Her  entertaynd :  nath'lesse  shee  inly  deemd 
Her  love  too  light,  to  wooe  a  wandring  guest ; 
Which  she  misconstruing,  thereby  esteemd 
That  from  like  inward  fire  that  outward  smoke  had  steemd. 

Therewith  a  while  she  her  flit  fancy  fedd, 
Till  she  mote  winne  fit  time  for  her  desire ; 
But  yet  her  wound  still  inward  freshly  bledd, 
And  through  her  bones  the  false  instilled  fire 
Did  spred  itself,  and  venime  close  inspire. 
Tho  were  the  tables  taken  all  away; 
And  every  knight,  and  every  gentle  Squire, 
Gan  choose  his  Dame  with  Bascimano  gay 
With  whom  he  ment  to  make  his  sport  and  courtly  play. 





Book  III. 
Canto  I. 




Book  III. 
Canto  I. 

Some  fell  to  daunce,  some  fell  to  hazardry, 
Some  to  make  love,  some  to  make  meryment, 
As  diverse  witts  to  diverse  things  apply ; 
And  all  the  while  faire  Malecasta  bent 
Her  crafty  engins  to  her  close  intent. 
By  this  th'eternall  lampes,  wherewith  high  Jove 
Doth  light  the  lower  world,  were  halfe  yspent, 
And  the  moist  daughters  of  huge  Atlas  strove 
Into  the  Ocean  deepe  to  drive  their  weary  drove. 

High  time  it  seemed  then  for  every  wight 
Them  to  betake  unto  their  kindly  rest : 
Eftesoones  long  waxen  torches  weren  light 
Unto  their  bowres  to  guyden  every  guest. 
Tho,  when  the  Britonesse  saw  all  the  rest 
Avoided  quite,  she  gan  her  selfe  despoile, 
And  safe  committ  to  her  soft  fethered  nest ; 
Wher  through  long  watch,  and  late  daies  weary  toile, 
She  soundly  slept,  and  carefull  thoughts  did  quite  assoile. 

Now  whenas  all  the  world  in  silence  deepe 
Yshrowded  was,  and  every  mortall  wight 
Was  drowned  in  the  depth  of  deadly  sleepe  ; 
Faire  Malecasta,  whose  engrieved  spright 
Could  find  no  rest  in  such  perplexed  plight, 
Lightly  arose  out  of  her  wearie  bed, 
And,  under  the  blacke  vele  of  guilty  Night, 
Her  with  a  scarlott  mantle  covered 
That  was  with  gold  and  Ermines  faire  enveloped. 


Then  panting  softe,  and  trembling  every  joynt, 
Her  fearfull  feete  towards  the  bowre  she  mov'd, 
Where  she  for  secret  purpose  did  appoynt 
To  lodge  the  warlike  maide,  unwisely  loov'd ; 
And,  to  her  bed  approching,  first  she  proov'd 
Whether  she  slept  or  wakte :  with  her  softe  hand 
She  softely  felt  if  any  member  moov'd, 
And  lent  her  wary  eare  to  understand 
If  any  puffe  of  breath  or  signe  of  sence  shee  fond. 

Which  whenas  none  she  fond,  with  easy  shifte, 
For  feare  least  her  unwares  she  should  abrayd, 
Th'embroder'd  quilt  she  lightly  up  did  lifte, 
And  by  her  side  her  selfe  she  softly  layd, 
Of  every  finest  fingers  touch  afFrayd  ; 
Ne  any  noise  she  made,  ne  word  she  spake, 
But  inly  sigh'd.    At  last  the  royall  Mayd 
Out  of  her  quiet  slomber  did  awake, 
And  chaunged  her  weary  side  the  better  ease  to  take. 

Where  feeling  one  close  couched  by  her  side, 
She  lightly  lept  out  of  her  filed  bedd, 
And  to  her  weapon  ran,  in  minde  to  gride 
The  loathed  leachour.     But  the  Dame,  halfe  dedd 
Through  suddein  feare  and  ghastly  drerihedd, 
Did  shrieke  alowd,  that  through  the  hous  it  rong, 
And  the  whole  family,  therewith  adredd, 
Rashly  out  of  their  rouzed  couches  sprong, 
And  to  the  troubled  chamber  all  in  armes  did  throne. 







Book  III. 
Canto  I. 

And  those  sixe  knights,  that  ladies  Champions 
And  eke  the  Redcrosse  knight  ran  to  the  stownd, 
Halfe  armd  and  halfe  unarmd,  with  them  attons : 
Where  when  confusedly  they  came,  they  fownd 
Their  lady  lying  on  the  sencelesse  grownd : 
On  thother  side  they  saw  the  warlike  Mayd 
Al  in  her  snow-white  smocke,  with  locks  unbownd, 
Threatning  the  point  of  her  avenging  blaed ; 
That  with  so  troublous  terror  they  were  all  dismayd. 

About  their  Ladye  first  they  flockt  arownd ; 
Whom  having  laid  in  comfortable  couch, 
Shortly  they  reard  out  of  her  frosen  swownd ; 
And  afterwardes  they  gan  with  fowle  reproch 
To  stirre  up  strife,  and  troublous  contecke  broch : 
But  by  ensample  of  the  last  dayes  losse, 
None  of  them  rashly  durst  to  her  approch, 
Ne  in  so  glorious  spoile  themselves  embosse  : 
Her  succourd  eke  the  Champion  of  the  bloody  Crosse. 

But  one  of  those  sixe  knights,  Gardante  hight, 
Drew  out  a  deadly  bow  and  arrow  keene, 
Which  forth  be  sent,  with  felonous  despight 
And  fell  intent,  against  the  virgin  sheene  : 
The  mortall  Steele  stayd  not  till  it  was  seene 
To  gore  her  side ;  yet  was  the  wound  not  deepe, 
But  lightly  rased  her  soft  silken  skin, 
That  drops  of  purple  blood  thereout  did  weepe, 
Which  did  her  lilly  smock  with  staines  of  vermeil  steep. 


Wherewith  enrag'd  she  fiercely  at  them  flew, 
And  with  her  flaming  sword  about  her  layd, 
That  none  of  them  foule  mischiefe  could  eschew, 
But  with  her  dreadfull  strokes  were  all  dismayd : 
Here,  there,  and  every  where,  about  her  swayd 
Her  wrathfull  Steele,  that  none  mote  it  abyde ; 
And  eke  the  Redcrosse  knight  gave  her  good  ayd, 
Ay  joyning  foot  to  foot,  and  syde  to  syde ; 
That  in  short  space  their  foes  they  have  quite  terrifyde. 

Book  III. 
Canto  I. 

Tho,  whenas  all  were  put  to  shamefull  flight, 
The  noble  Britomartis  her  arayd, 
And  her  bright  armes  about  her  body  dight. 
For  nothing  would  she  lenger  there  be  stayd, 
Where  so  loose  life,  and  so  ungentle  trade, 
Was  usd  of  knightes  and  Ladies  seeming  gent : 
So  earely,  ere  the  grosse  Earthes  gryesy  shade 
Was  all  disperst  out  of  the  firmament, 
They  tooke  their  steeds,  and  forth  upon  their  journey  went. 

ERE  have  I  cause  in  men  just  blame  to  find, 
That  in  their  proper  praise  too  partiall  bee, 
And  not  indifferent  to  woman  kind, 
To  whom  no  share  in  armes  and  chevalree 
They  doe  impart,  ne  maken  memoree 
Of  their  brave  gestes  and  prowesse  martiall : 
spare  to  one,  or  two,  or  three, 
Rowme  in  their  writtes ;  yet  the  same  writing  small 
Does  all  their  deedes  deface,  and  dims  their  glories  all. 

But  by  record  of  antique  times  I  finde 
That  wemen  wont  in  warres  to  beare  most  sway, 
And  to  all  great  exploites  them  selves  inclind, 
Of  which  they  still  the  girlond  bore  away; 
Till  envious  Men,  fearing  their  rules  decay, 
Gan  coyne  streight  lawes  to  curb  their  liberty  : 
Yet  sith  they  warlike  armes  have  laide  away, 
They  have  exceld  in  artes  and  pollicy, 
That  now  we  foolish  men  that  prayse  gin  eke  t'envy. 





Book  III. 
Canto  II. 

Of  warlike  puissaunce  in  ages  spent, 
Be  thou,  faire  Britomart,  whose  prayse  I  wryte ; 
But  of  all  wisedom  bee  thou  precedent, 
O  soveraine  Queene !  whose  prayse  I  would  endyte, 
Endite  I  would  as  dewtie  doth  excyte ; 
But  ah !  my  rymes  too  rude  and  rugged  arre, 
When  in  so  high  an  obje£t  they  do  lyte, 
And,  striving  fit  to  make,  I  feare,  doe  marre : 
Thy  selfe  thy  prayses  tell,  and  make  them  knowen  farre. 

She,  travelling  with  Guyon,  by  the  way 
Of  sondry  thinges  faire  purpose  gan  to  find, 
T'abridg  their  journey  long,  and  lingring  day  ; 
Mongst  which  it  fell  into  that  Fairies  mind 
To  aske  this  Briton  Maid,  what  uncouth  wind 
Brought  her  into  those  partes,  and  what  inquest 
Made  her  dissemble  her  disguised  kind  ? 
Faire  Lady  she  him  seemd,  like  Lady  drest, 
But  fairest  knight  alive,  when  armed  was  her  brest. 

Thereat  she  sighing  softly  had  no  powre 
To  speake  a  while,  ne  ready  answere  make ; 
But  with  hart-thrilling  throbs  and  bitter  stowre, 
As  if  she  had  a  fever  fitt,  did  quake, 
And  every  daintie  limbe  with  horrour  shake ; 
And  ever  and  anone  the  rosy  red 
Flasht  through  her  face,  as  it  had  beene  a  flake 
Of  lightning  through  bright  heven  fulmined  : 
At  last,  the  passion  past,  she  thus  him  answered. 


"  Faire  Sir,  I  let  you  weete,  that  from  the  howre 
I  taken  was  from  nourses  tender  pap, 
I  have  been  trained  up  in  warlike  stowre, 
To  tqssen  speare  and  shield,  and  to  affrap 
The  warlike  ryder  to  his  most  mishap : 
Sithence  I  loathed  have  my  life  to  lead, 
As  Ladies  wont,  in  pleasures  wanton  lap, 
To  finger  the  fine  needle  and  nyce  thread, 
Me  lever  were  with  point  of  foemans  speare  be  dead. 

"  All  my  delight  on  deedes  of  armes  is  set, 
To  hunt  out  perilles  and  adventures  hard, 
By  sea,  by  land,  where  so  they  may  be  met, 
Onely  for  honour  and  for  high  regard, 
Without  respect  of  richesse  or  reward  : 
For  such  intent  into  these  partes  I  came, 
Withouten  compasse  or  withouten  card, 
Far  fro  my  native  soyle,  that  is  by  name 
The  greater  Brytayne,  here  to  seek  for  praise  and  fame. 

"  Fame  blazed  hath,  that  here  in  Faery  lond 
Doe  many  famous  Knightes  and  Ladies  wonne, 
And  many  straunge  adventures  to  bee  fond, 
Of  which  great  worth  and  worship  may  be  wonne ; 
Which  to  prove,  I  this  voyage  have  begonne. 
But  mote  I  weet  of  you,  right  courteous  knight, 
Tydings  of  one  that  hath  unto  me  donne 
Late  foule  dishonour  and  reprochfull  spight, 
The  which  I  seeke  to  wreake,  and  Arthegall  he  hight." 


Book  III. 
Canto  II. 

The  worde  gone  out  she  backe  againe  would  call, 
As  her  repenting  so  to  have  missayd, 
But  that  he,  it  uptaking  ere  the  fall, 
Her  shortly  answered  :  "  Faire  martiall  Mayd, 
Certes  ye  misavised  beene  t'upbrayd 
A  gentle  knight  with  so  unknightly  blame ; 
For,  weet  ye  well,  of  all  that  ever  playd 
At  tilt  or  tourney,  or  like  warlike  game, 
The  noble  Arthegall  hath  ever  borne  the  name. 

"  Forthy  great  wonder  were  it,  if  such  shame 
Should  ever  enter  in  his  bounteous  thought, 
Or  ever  doe  that  mote  deserven  blame : 
The  noble  corage  never  weeneth  ought 
That  may  unworthy  of  it  selfe  be  thought. 
Therefore,  faire  Damzell,  be  ye  well  aware, 
Least  that  too  farre  ye  have  your  sorrow  sought 
You  and  your  countrey  both  I  wish  welfare, 
And  honour  both  ;  for  each  of  other  worthy  are." 

The  royall  Maid  woxe  inly  wondrous  glad, 
To  heare  her  Love  so  highly  magnifyde  ; 
And  joyd  that  ever  she  affixed  had 
Her  hart  on  knight  so  goodly  glorifyde, 
How  ever  finely  she  it  faind  to  hyde. 
The  loving  mother,  that  nine  monethes  did  beare 
In  the  deare  closett  of  her  painefull  syde 
Her  tender  babe,  it  seeing  safe  appeare, 
Doth  not  so  much  rejoyce  as  she  rejoyced  theare. 

*  564 

But  to  occasion  him  to  further  talke,  THE 

To  feed  her  humor  with  his  pleasing;  style,  FAERIE 
tt     i-    •  „  •  ,  ,  .         :    ,  QUEENE. 

Her  list  in  stryfull  termes  with  him  to  balke,  Book  m 

And  thus  replyde :  "  How  ever,  Sir,  ye  fyle  Canto  II. 

Your  courteous  tongue  his  prayses  to  compyle, 

It  ill  beseemes  a  knight  of  gentle  sort, 

Such  as  ye  have  him  boasted,  to  beguyle 

A  simple  maide,  and  worke  so  hainous  tort, 

In  shame  of  knighthood,  as  I  largely  can  report. 

"  Let  bee  therefore  my  vengeaunce  to  disswade, 
And  read  where  I  that  fay  tour  false  may  find." 
"  Ah !  but  if  reason  faire  might  you  perswade 
To  slake  your  wrath,  and  mollify  your  mind," 
(Said  he)  "  perhaps  ye  should  it  better  find  : 
For  hardie  thing  it  is,  to  weene  by  might 
That  man  to  hard  conditions  to  bind, 
Or  ever  hope  to  match  in  equall  fight, 
Whose  prowesse  paragone  saw  never  living  wight. 

"  Ne  soothlich  is  it  easie  for  to  read 
Where  now  on  earth,  or  how,  he  may  be  fownd ; 
For  he  ne  wonneth  in  one  certeine  stead, 
But  restlesse  walketh  all  the  world  arownd, 
Ay  doing  thinges  that  to  his  fame  redownd, 
Defending  Ladies  cause  and  Orphans  right, 
Whereso  he  heares  that  any  doth  confownd 
Them  comfortlesse  through  tyranny  or  might : 
So  is  his  soveraine  honour  raisde  to  hevens  hight." 





Book  III. 
Canto  II. 

His  feeling  wordes  her  feeble  sence  much  pleased, 
And  softly  sunck  into  her  molten  hart : 
Hart  that  is  inly  hurt  is  greatly  eased 
With  hope  of  thing  that  may  allegge  his  smart ; 
For  pleasing  wordes  are  like  to  Magick  art, 
That  doth  the  charmed  Snake  in  slomber  lay. 
Such  secrete  ease  felt  gentle  Britomart, 
Yet  list  the  same  efforce  with  faind  gainesay ; 
So  dischord  ofte  in  Musick  makes  the  sweeter  lay  : — 

And  sayd  ;  "  Sir  knight,  these  ydle  termes  forbeare  ; 
And,  sith  it  is  uneath  to  finde  his  haunt, 
Tell  me  some  markes  by  which  he  may  appeare, 
If  chaunce  I  him  encounter  paravaunt ; 
For  perdy  one  shall  other  slay,  or  daunt : 
What  shape,  what  shield,  what  armes,  what  steed,  what  stedd, 
And  what  so  else  his  person  most  may  vaunt  ? " 
All  which  the  Redcrosse  knight  to  point  aredd, 
And  him  in  everie  part  before  her  fashioned. 

Yet  him  in  everie  part  before  she  knew, 
However  list  her  now  her  knowledge  fayne, 
Sith  him  whylome  in  Britayne  she  did  vew, 
To  her  revealed  in  a  mirrhour  playne ; 
Whereof  did  grow  her  first  engraffed  payne, 
Whose  root  and  stalke  so  bitter  yet  did  taste, 
That  but  the  fruit  more  sweetnes  did  contayne, 
Her  wretched  dayes  in  dolour  she  mote  waste, 
And  yield  the  pray  of  love  to  lothsome  death  at  last. 


By  straunge  occasion  she  did  him  behold, 
And  much  more  straungely  gan  to  love  his  sight, 
As  it  in  bookes  hath  written  beene  of  old. 
In  Deheubarth,  that  now  South-wales  is  hight, 
What  time  king  Ryence  raign'd  and  dealed  right, 
The  great  Magitien  Merlin  had  deviz'd, 
By  his  deepe  science  and  hell-dreaded  might, 
A  looking  glasse,  right  wondrously  aguiz'd, 
Whose  vertues  through  the  wyde  worlde  soone  were  solemniz'd. 




Book  III. 
Canto  II. 

It  vertue  had  to  shew  in  perfect  sight 
Whatever  thing  was  in  the  world  contaynd, 
Betwixt  the  lowest  earth  and  hevens  hight, 
So  that  it  to  the  looker  appertaynd : 
Whatever  foe  had  wrought,  or  frend  had  faynd, 
Therein  discovered  was,  ne  ought  mote  pas, 
Ne  ought  in  secret  from  the  same  remaynd ; 
Forthy  it  round  and  hollow  shaped  was, 
Like  to  the  world  itselfe,  and  seemd  a  world  of  glas. 

Who  wonders  not,  that  reades  so  wonderous  worke  ? 
But  who  does  wonder,  that  has  red  the  Towre 
Wherein  th'Aegyptian  Phao  long  did  lurke 
From  all  mens  vew,  that  none  might  her  discoure, 
Yet  she  might  all  men  vew  out  of  her  bowre  ? 
Great  Ptoloma?e  it  for  his  lemans  sake 
Ybuilded  all  of  glasse,  by  Magicke  powre, 
And  also  it  impregnable  did  make  ; 
Yet  when  his  love  was  false  he  with  a  peaze  it  brake. 

567  3  T 

Book  III. 
Canto  II. 

Such  was  the  glassy  globe  that  Merlin  made, 
And  gave  unto  king  Ryence  for  his  gard, 
That  never  foes  his  kingdome  might  invade, 
But  he  it  knew  at  home  before  he  hard 
Tydings  thereof,  and  so  them  still  debar'd. 
It  was  a  famous  Present  for  a  Prince, 
And  worthy  worke  of  infinite  reward, 
That  treasons  could  bewray,  and  foes  convince 
Happy  this  Realme,  had  it  remayned  ever  since ! 

One  day  it  fortuned  fayre  Britomart 
Into  her  fathers  closet  to  repayre ; 
For  nothing  he  from  her  reserv'd  apart, 
Being  his  onely  daughter  and  his  hayre ; 
Where  when  she  had  espyde  that  mirrhour  fayre, 
Her  selfe  awhile  therein  she  vewd  in  vaine : 
Tho,  her  avizing  of  the  vertues  rare 
Which  thereof  spoken  were,  she  gan  againe  ? 
Her  to  bethinke  of  that  mote  to  her  selfe  pertaine. 

But  as  it  falleth,  in  the  gentlest  harts 
Imperious  Love  hath  highest  set  his  throne, 
And  tyrannizeth  in  the  bitter  smarts 
Of  them  that  to  him  buxome  are  and  prone : 
So  thought  this  Mayd  (as  maydens  use  to  done) 
Whom  fortune  for  her  husband  would  allot : 
Not  that  she  lusted  after  any  one, 
For  she  was  pure  from  blame  of  sinfull  blott ; 
Yet  wist  her  life  at  last  must  lincke  in  that  same  knot. 


Eftsoones  there  was  presented  to  her  eye 
A  comely  knight,  all  arm'd  in  complete  wize, 
Through  whose  bright  ventayle,  lifted  up  on  hye, 
His  manly  face,  that  did  his  foes  agrize, 
And  frends  to  termes  of  gentle  truce  entize, 
Lookt  foorth,  as  Phcebus  face  out  of  the  east 
Betwixt  two  shady  mountaynes  doth  arize : 
Portly  his  person  was,  and  much  increast 
Through  his  Heroicke  grace  and  honorable  gest. 

His  crest  was  covered  with  a  couchant  Hownd, 
And  all  his  armour  seem'd  of  antique  mould, 
But  wondrous  massie  and  assured  sownd, 
And  round  about  yfretted  all  with  gold, 
In  which  there  written  was,  with  cyphres  old, 
Achilles  amies,  which  Arthegall  did  win : 
And  on  his  shield  enveloped  sevenfold 
He  bore  a  crowned  little  Ermelin, 
That  deckt  the  azure  field  with  her  fayre  pouldred  skin. 

The  Damzell  well  did  vew  his  Personage 
And  liked  well,  ne  further  fastned  not, 
But  went  her  way ;  ne  her  unguilty  age 
Did  weene,  unwares,  that  her  unlucky  lot 
Lay  hidden  in  the  bottome  of  the  pot. 
Of  hurt  unwist  most  daunger  doth  redound  ; 
But  the  false  Archer,  which  that  arrow  shot 
So  slyly  that  she  did  not  feele  the  wound, 
Did  smyle  full  smoothly  at  her  weetlesse  wofull  stound. 



Book  III. 
Canto  II. 

Book  III. 
Canto  II. 

Thenceforth  the  fether  in  her  lofty  crest, 
Ruffed  of  love,  gan  lowly  to  availe ; 
And  her  prowd  portaunce  and  her  princely  gest, 
With  which  she  earst  tryumphed,  now  did  quaile 
Sad,  solemne,  sowre,  and  full  of  fancies  fraile, 
She  woxe ;  yet  wist  she  nether  how,  nor  why. 
She  wist  not,  silly  Mayd,  what  she  did  aile, 
Yet  wist  she  was  not  well  at  ease  perdy ; 
Yet  thought  it  was  not  love,  but  some  melancholy. 

So  soone  as  Night  had  with  her  pallid  hew 
Defaste  the  beautie  of  the  shyning  skye, 
And  refte  from  men  the  worldes  desired  vew, 
She  with  her  Nourse  adowne  to  sleepe  did  lye  ; 
But  sleepe  full  far  away  from  her  did  fly : 
In  stead  thereof  sad  sighes  and  sorrowes  deepe 
Kept  watch  and  ward  about  her  warily, 
That  nought  she  did  but  wayle,  and  often  steepe 
Her  dainty  couch  with  teares  which  closely  she  did  weepe. 

And  if  that  any  drop  of  slombring  rest 
Did  chaunce  to  still  into  her  weary  spright, 
When  feeble  nature  felt  her  selfe  opprest, 
Streight-way  with  dreames,  and  with  fantastick.  sight 
Of  dreadfull  things,  the  same  was  put  to  flight; 
That  oft  out  of  her  bed  she  did  astart, 
As  one  with  vew  of  ghastly  feends  affright: 
Tho  gan  she  to  renew  her  former  smart, 
And  thinke  of  that  fayre  visage  written  in  her  hart. 


One  night,  when  she  was  tost  with  such  unrest, 
Her  aged  Nourse,  whose  name  was  Glauce  hight, 
Feeling  her  leape  out  of  her  loathed  nest, 
Betwixt  her  feeble  armes  her  quickly  keight, 
And  downe  againe  her  in  her  warme  bed  dight : 
"  Ah !  my  deare  daughter,  ah !  my  dearest  dread, 
What  uncouth  fit,"  (sayd  she)  "  what  evill  plight 
Hath  thee  opprest,  and  with  sad  drearyhead 
Chaunged  thy  lively  cheare,  and  living  made  thee  dead  ? 

Book  III. 
Canto  II. 

"  For  not  of  nought  these  suddein  ghastly  feares 
All  night  afflict  thy  naturall  repose ; 
And  all  the  day,  when  as  thine  equall  peares 
Their  fit  disports  with  faire  delight  doe  chose, 
Thou  in  dull  corners  doest  thy  selfe  inclose ; 
Ne  tastest  Princes  pleasures,  ne  doest  spred 
Abroad  thy  fresh  youths  fayrest  flowre,  but  lose 
Both  leafe  and  fruite,  both  too  untimely  shed, 
As  one  in  wilfull  bale  for  ever  buried. 

"  The  time  that  mortall  men  their  weary  cares 
Do  lay  away,  and  all  wilde  beastes  do  rest, 
And  every  river  eke  his  course  forbeares, 
Then  doth  this  wicked  evill  thee  infest, 
And  rive  with  thousand  throbs  thy  thrilled  brest : 
Like  an  huge  Aetn'  of  deepe  engulfed  gryefe, 
Sorrow  is  heaped  in  thy  hollow  chest, 
Whence  foorth  it  breakes  in  sighes  and  anguish  ryfe, 
As  smoke  and  sulphure  mingled  with  confused  stryfe. 


Book  III. 
Canto  II. 

"  Ay  me !  how  much  I  feare  least  love  it  bee ! 
But  if  that  love  it  be,  as  sure  I  read 
By  knowen  signes  and  passions  which  I  see, 
Be  it  worthy  of  thy  race  and  royall  sead, 
Then  I  avow,  by  this  most  sacred  head 
Of  my  deare  foster  childe,  to  ease  thy  griefe 
And  win  thy  will :  Therefore  away  doe  dread  ; 
For  death  nor  daunger  from  thy  dew  reliefe 
Shall  me  debarre  :  tell  me  therefore,  my  liefest  liefe !  " 

So  having  sayd,  her  twixt  her  armes  twaine 
Shee  streightly  straynd,  and  colled  tenderly ; 
And  every  trembling  joy nt  and  every  vaine 
Shee  softly  felt,  and  rubbed  busily, 
To  doe  the  frosen  cold  away  to  fly ; 
And  her  faire  deawy  eies  with  kisses  deare 
Shee  ofte  did  bathe,  and  ofte  againe  did  dry ; 
And  ever  her  importund  not  to  feare 
To  let  the  secret  of  her  hart  to  her  appeare. 

The  Damzell  pauzd ;  and  then  thus  fearfully  : 
"  Ah !  Nurse,  what  needeth  thee  to  eke  my  payne  ? 
Is  not  enough  that  I  alone  doe  dye, 
But  it  must  doubled  bee  with  death  of  twaine  ? 
For  nought  for  me  but  death  there  doth  remaine." 
"  O  daughter  deare !  "  (said  she)  "  despeire  no  whit ; 
For  never  sore  but  might  a  salve  obtaine : 
That  blinded  God,  which  hath  ye  blindly  smit, 
Another  arrow  hath  your  lovers  hart  to  hit." 


'*  But  mine  is  not  "  (quoth  she)  "  like  other  wownd  ;  THE 

For  which  no  reason  can  finde  remedy."  FAERIE 
£C  txT  11  .*,.,,    ■„  OUEENE. 

Was  never  such,  but  mote  the  like  be  fownd,"  Book  m 

(Said  she)  "  and  though  no  reason  may  apply  Canto  II. 

Salve  to  your  sore,  yet  love  can  higher  stye 

Then  reasons  reach,  and  oft  hath  wonders  donne." 

"  But  neither  God  of  love  nor  God  of  skye 

Can  doe"  (said  she)  "that  which  cannot  be  donne." 

"  Things  ofte  impossible  "  (quoth  she)  "  seeme,  ere  begonne." 

"  These  idle  wordes  "  (said  she)  "  doe  nought  aswage 
My  stubborne  smart,  but  more  annoiaunce  breed : 
For  no,  no  usuall  fire,  no  usuall  rage 
Yt  is,  O  Nourse !  which  on  my  life  doth  feed, 
And  sucks  the  blood  which  from  my  hart  doth  bleed  : 
But  since  thy  faithful  zele  lets  me  not  hyde 
My  crime,  (if  crime  it  be)  I  will  it  reed. 
Nor  Prince  nor  pere  it  is,  whose  love  hath  gryde 
My  feeble  brest  of  late,  and  launched  this  wound  wyde. 

"  Nor  man  it  is,  nor  other  living  wight, 
For  then  some  hope  I  might  unto  me  draw ; 
But  th'only  shade  and  semblant  of  a  knight, 
Whose  shape  or  person  yet  I  never  saw, 
Hath  me  subjected  to  loves  cruell  law : 
The  same  one  day,  as  me  misfortune  led, 
I  in  my  fathers  wondrous  mirrhour  saw, 
And,  pleased  with  that  seeming  goodly-hed, 
Unwares  the  hidden  hooke  with  baite  I  swallowed. 





Book  III. 
Canto  II. 

"  Sithens  it  hath  infixed  faster  hold 
Within  my  bleeding  bowells,  and  so  sore 
Now  ranckleth  in  this  same  fraile  fleshly  mould, 
That  all  my  entrailes  flow  with  poisnous  gore, 
And  th'ulcer  groweth  daily  more  and  more ; 
Ne  can  my  ronning  sore  finde  remedee, 
Other  then  my  hard  fortune  to  deplore, 
And  languish,  as  the  leafe  fain  from  the  tree, 
Till  death  make  one  end  of  my  daies  and  miseree! " 

"  Daughter,"  (said  she)  "  what  need  ye  be  dismayd  ? 
Or  why  make  ye  such  Monster  of  your  minde  ? 
Of  much  more  uncouth  thing  I  was  affrayd, 
Of  filthy  lust,  contrary  unto  kinde ; 
But  this  affection  nothing  straunge  I  finde ; 
For  who  with  reason  can  you  aye  reprove 
To  love  the  semblaunt  pleasing  most  your  minde, 
And  yield  your  heart  whence  ye  cannot  remove  ? 
No  guilt  in  you,  but  in  the  tyranny  of  love. 

"  Not  so  th' Arabian  Myrrhe  did  set  her  mynd, 
Nor  so  did  Biblis  spend  her  pining  hart ; 
But  lov'd  their  native  flesh  against  al  kynd, 
And  to  their  purpose  used  wicked  art : 
Yet  playd  Pasiphae  a  more  monstrous  part, 
That  lov'd  a  Bui,  and  learnd  a  beast  to  bee. 
Such  shamefull  lustes  who  loaths  not,  which  depart 
From  course  of  nature  and  of  modestee  ? 
Sweete  love  such  lewdnes  bands  from  his  faire  companee. 


"  But  thine,  my  Deare,  (welfare  thy  heart,  my  deare  !) 
Though  straunge  beginning  had,  yet  fixed  is 
On  one  that  worthy  may  perhaps  appeare ; 
And  certes  seemes  bestowed  not  amis : 
Joy  thereof  have  thou  and  eternall  blis ! " 
With  that,  upleaning  on  her  elbow  weake, 
Her  alablaster  brest  she  soft  did  kis, 
Which  all  that  while  shee  felt  to  pant  and  quake, 
As  it  an  Earth-quake  were  :  at  last  she  thus  bespake. 

"  Beldame,  your  words  doe  worke  me  litle  ease ; 
For  though  my  love  be  not  so  lewdly  bent 
As  those  ye  blame,  yet  may  it  nought  appease 
My  raging  smart,  ne  ought  my  flame  relent, 
But  rather  doth  my  helpelesse  griefe  augment; 
For  they,  how  ever  shamefull  and  unkinde, 
Yet  did  possesse  their  horrible  intent ; 
Short  end  of  sorrowes  they  therby  did  finde ; 
So  was  their  fortune  good,  though  wicked  were  their  minde. 

"  But  wicked  fortune  mine,  though  minde  be  good, 
Can  have  no  ende  nor  hope  of  my  desire, 
But  feed  on  shadowes  whiles  I  die  for  food, 
And  like  a  shadowe  wexe,  whiles  with  entire 
AfFedtion  I  doe  languish  and  expire. 
I,  fonder  then  Cephisus  foolish  chyld, 
Who,  having  vewed  in  a  fountaine  shere 
His  face,  was  with  the  love  thereof  beguyld ; 
I,  fonder,  love  a  shade,  the  body  far  exyld." 

575  3  u 




Book  III. 
Canto  II. 

THE  "  Nought  like,"  (quoth  shee)  "  for  that  same  wretched  boy 

QlHiENE  ^as  °^        se^e  the  ydle  Paramoure, 

Book  III.  Both  love  and  lover,  without  hope  of  joy, 

Canto  H.  For  which  he  faded  to  a  watry  flowre  : 

But  better  fortune  thine,  and  better  howre, 

Which  lov'st  the  shadow  of  a  warlike  knight ; 

No  shadow  but  a  body  hath  in  powre  : 

That  body,  wheresoever  that  it  light, 
May  learned  be  by  cyphers,  or  by  Magicke  might. 

"  But  if  thou  may  with  reason  yet  represse 
The  growing  evil],  ere  it  strength  have  gott, 
And  thee  abandond  wholy  do  possesse, 
Against  it  strongly  strive,  and  yield  thee  nott 
Til  thou  in  open  fielde  adowne  be  smott : 
But  if  the  passion  mayster  thy  fraile  might, 
So  that  needs  love  or  death  must  bee  thy  lott, 
Then,  I  avow  to  thee,  by  wrong  or  right 
To  compas  thy  desire,  and  find  that  loved  knight." 

Her  chearefull  words  much  cheard  the  feeble  spright 
Of  the  sicke  virgin,  that  her  downe  she  layd 
In  her  warme  bed  to  sleepe,  if  that  she  might ; 
And  the  old-woman  carefully  displayd 
The  clothes  about  her  round  with  busy  ayd  ; 
So  that  at  last  a  litle  creeping  sleepe 
Surprisd  her  sence  :  Shee,  therewith  well  apayd, 
The  dronken  lamp  down  in  the  oyl  did  steepe, 
And  sett  her  by  to  watch,  and  sett  her  by  to  weepe. 


Earely,  the  morrow  next,  before  that  day 
His  joyous  face  did  to  the  world  revele, 
They  both  uprose  and  tooke  their  ready  way 
Unto  the  Church,  their  praiers  to  appele 
With  great  devotion,  and  with  little  zele  : 
For  the  faire  Damzel  from  the  holy  herse 
Her  love-sicke  hart  to  other  thoughts  did  steale ; 
And  that  old  Dame  said  many  an  idle  verse, 
Out  of  her  daughters  hart  fond  fancies  to  reverse. 

Retourned  home,  the  royall  Infant  fell 
Into  her  former  fitt ;  for-why  no  powre 
Nor  guidaunce  of  herselfe  in  her  did  dwell : 
But  th'aged  Nourse,  her  calling  to  her  bowre, 
Had  gathered  Rew,  and  Savine,  and  the  flowre 
Of  Camphora,  and  Calamint,  and  Dill ; 
All  which  she  in  a  earthen  Pot  did  poure, 
And  to  the  brim  with  Coltwood  did  it  fill, 
And  many  drops  of  milk  and  blood  through  it  did  spill. 

Then,  taking  thrise  three  heares  from  ofF  her  head, 
Them  trebly  breaded  in  a  threefold  lace, 
And  round  about  the  Pots  mouth  bound  the  thread  ; 
And,  after  having  whispered  a  space 
Certein  sad  words  with  hollow  voice  and  bace, 
Shee  to  the  virgin  sayd,  thrise  sayd  she  itt ; 
"  Come  daughter,  come  ;  come,  spit  upon  my  face  ; 
Spitt  thrise  upon  me,  thrise  upon  me  spitt  ; 
Th'uneven  nomber  for  this  busines  is  most  fitt." 


Book  III. 
Canto  II. 

That  sayd,  her  rownd  about  she  from  her  turnd, 
She  turned  her  contrary  to  the  Sunne  ; 
Thrise  she  her  turnd  contrary,  and  returnd 
All  contrary ;  for  she  the  right  did  shunne  ; 
And  ever  what  she  did  was  streight  undonne. 
So  thought  she  to  undoe  her  daughters  love ; 
But  love,  that  is  in  gentle  brest  begonne, 
No  ydle  charmes  so  lightly  may  remove : 
That  well  can  witnesse  who  by  tryall  it  does  prove. 

Ne  ought  it  mote  the  noble  Mayd  avayle, 
Ne  slake  the  fury  of  her  cruell  flame, 
But  that  shee  still  did  waste,  and  still  did  wayle, 
That,  through  long  languour  and  hart-burning  brame. 
She  shortly  like  a  pyned  ghost  became 
Which  long  hath  waited  by  the  Stygian  strond. 
That  when  old  Glauce  saw,  for  feare  least  blame 
Of  her  miscarriage  should  in  her  be  fond, 
She  wist  not  how  t'amend,  nor  how  it  to  withstond. 



OST  sacred  fyre,  that  burnest  mightily 
In  living  brests,  ykindled  first  above 
Emongst  th'eternall  spheres  and  lamping  sky, 
And  thence  pourd  into  men,  which  men  call  Love ! 
Not  that  same,  which  doth  base  affections  move 
In  brutish  mindes,  and  filthy  lust  inflame, 
But  that  sweete  fit  that  doth  true  beautie  love, 
And  choseth  vertue  for  his  dearest  Dame, 
Whence  spring  all  noble  deedes  and  never  dying  fame : 

Well  did  Antiquity  a  God  thee  deeme, 
That  over  mortall  mindes  hast  so  great  might, 
To  order  them  as  best  to  thee  doth  seeme, 
And  all  their  actions  to  direct  aright : 
The  fatall  purpose  of  divine  foresight 
Thou  doest  effect  in  destined  descents, 
Through  deepe  impression  of  thy  secret  might, 
And  stirredst  up  th'  Heroes  high  intents, 
Which  the  late  world  admyres  for  wondrous  moniments. 



THE  But  thy  dredd  dartes  in  none  doe  triumph  more, 

OUEENF  ^e  braver  proofe  in  any  of  thy  powre 

Book  III.  Shewd'st  thou,  then  in  this  royall  Maid  of  yore, 

Canto  III.  Making  her  seeke  an  unknowne  Paramoure, 

From  the  worlds  end,  through  many  a  bitter  stowre : 
From  whose  two  loynes  thou  afterwardes  did  rayse 
Most  famous  fruites  of  matrimoniall  bowre, 
Which  through  the  earth  have  spredd  their  living  prayse, 
That  fame  in  tromp  of  gold  eternally  displayes. 

Begin  then,  O  my  dearest  sacred  Dame ! 
Daughter  of  Phoebus  and  of  Memorye, 
That  doest  ennoble  with  immortall  name 
The  warlike  Worthies,  from  antiquitye, 
In  thy  great  volume  of  Eternitye  : 
Begin,  O  Clio!  and  recount  from  hence 
My  glorious  Soveraines  goodly  auncestrye, 
Till  that  by  dew  degrees,  and  long  protense, 
Thou  have  it  lastly  brought  unto  her  Excellence. 

Full  many  wayes  within  her  troubled  mind 
Old  Glauce  cast  to  cure  this  Ladies  griefe ; 
Full  many  waies  she  sought,  but  none  could  find, 
Nor  herbes,  nor  charmes,  nor  counsel,  that  is  chiefe 
And  choicest  med'cine  for  sick  harts  reliefe : 
Forthy  great  care  she  tooke,  and  greater  feare, 
Least  that  it  should  her  turne  to  fowle  repriefe 
And  sore  reproch,  when  so  her  father  deare 
Should  of  his  dearest  daughters  hard  misfortune  heare. 


At  last  she  her  avisde,  that  he  which  made 
That  mirrhour,  wherein  the  sicke  Damosell 
So  straungely  vewed  her  straunge  lovers  shade, 
To  weet,  the  learned  Merlin,  well  could  tell 
Under  what  coast  of  heaven  the  man  did  dwell, 
And  by  what  means  his  love  might  best  be  wrought 
For,  though  beyond  the  Africk  Ismael 
Or  th'  Indian  Peru  he  were,  she  thought 
Him  forth  through  infinite  endevour  to  have  sought. 

Forthwith  them  selves  disguising  both  in  straunge 
And  base  atyre,  that  none  might  them  bewray, 
To  Maridunum,  that  is  now  by  chaunge 
Of  name  Cayr-Merdin  cald,  they  tooke  their  way  : 
There  the  wise  Merlin  whylome  wont  (they  say) 
To  make  his  wonne,  low  underneath  the  ground, 
In  a  deepe  delve,  farre  from  the  vew  of  day, 
That  of  no  living  wight  he  mote  be  found, 
When  so  he  counseld  with  his  sprights  encompast  round. 

And,  if  thou  ever  happen  that  same  way 
To  travell,  go  to  see  that  dreadfull  place. 
It  is  an  hideous  hollow  cave  (they  say) 
Under  a  Rock  that  lyes  a  litle  space 
From  the  swift  Barry,  tombling  downe  apace 
Emongst  the  woody  hilles  of  Dynevowre  : 
But  dare  thou  not,  I  charge,  in  any  cace 
To  enter  into  that  same  balefull  Bowre, 
For  feare  the  cruell  Feendes  should  thee  unwares  devowre  : 





Book  III. 
Canto  III. 

But  standing  high  aloft  low  lay  thine  eare, 
And  there  such  ghastly  noise  of  yron  chaines 
And  brasen  Caudrons  thou  shalt  rombling  heare, 
Which  thousand  sprights  with  long  enduring  paines 
Doe  tosse,  that  it  will  stonne  thy  feeble  braines ; 
And  oftentimes  great  grones,  and  grievous  stownds, 
When  too  huge  toile  and  labour  them  constraines : 
And  oftentimes  loud  strokes  and  ringing  sowndes 
From  under  that  deepe  Rock  most  horribly  rebowndes. 

The  cause,  some  say,  is  this :  A  litle  whyle 
Before  that  Merlin  dyde,  he  did  intend 
A  brasen  wall  in  compas  to  compyle 
About  Cairmardin,  and  did  it  commend 
Unto  these  Sprights  to  bring  to  perfect  end : 
During  which  worke  the  Lady  of  the  Lake, 
Whom  long  he  lov'd,  for  him  in  hast  did  send ; 
Who,  thereby  forst  his  workemen  to  forsake, 
Them  bownd  till  his  retourne  their  labour  not  to  slake. 

In  the  meane  time,  through  that  false  Ladies  traine 
He  was  surprisd,  and  buried  under  beare, 
Ne  ever  to  his  worke  returnd  againe : 
Nath'lesse  those  feends  may  not  their  work  forbeare, 
So  greatly  his  commandement  they  feare, 
But  there  doe  toyle  and  traveile  day  and  night, 
Untill  that  brasen  wall  they  up  doe  reare ; 
For  Merlin  had  in  Magick  more  insight 
Then  ever  him  before,  or  after,  living  wight : 


For  he  by  wordes  could  call  out  of  the  sky- 
Both  Sunne  and  Moone,  and  make  them  him  obay ; 
The  Land  to  sea,  and  sea  to  maineland  dry, 
And  darksom  night  he  eke  could  turne  to  day : 
Huge  hostes  of  men  he  could  alone  dismay, 
And  hostes  of  men  of  meanest  thinges  could  frame, 
When  so  him  list  his  enimies  to  fray ; 
That  to  this  day,  for  terror  of  his  fame, 
The  feends  do  quake  when  any  him  to  them  does  name. 

And,  sooth,  men  say  that  he  was  not  the  sonne 
Of  mortall  Syre  or  other  living  wight, 
But  wondrously  begotten,  and  begonne 
By  false  illusion  of  a  guilefull  Spright 
On  a  faire  Lady  Nonne,  that  whilome  hight 
Matilda,  daughter  to  Pubidius, 
Who  was  the  lord  of  Mathraval  by  right, 
And  coosen  unto  king  Ambrosius ; 
Whence  he  indued  was  with  skill  so  merveilous. 

They,  here  arriving,  staid  awhile  without, 
Ne  durst  adventure  rashly  in  to  wend, 
But  of  their  first  intent  gan  make  new  dout, 
For  dread  of  daunger  which  it  might  portend  ; 
Untill  the  hardy  Mayd  (with  love  to  frend) 
First  entering,  the  dreadfull  Mage  there  fownd 
Deepe  busied  bout  worke  of  wondrous  end, 
And  writing  straunge  characters  in  the  grownd, 
With  which  the  stubborne  feendes  he  to  his  service  bownd. 

585  3  x 

Book  III. 
Canto  III. 



Book  III. 
Canto  III. 

He  nought  was  moved  at  their  entraunce  bold, 
For  of  their  comming  well  he  wist  afore ; 
Yet  list  them  bid  their  businesse  to  unfold, 
As  if  ought  in  this  world  in  secrete  store 
Were  from  him  hidden,  or  unknowne  of  yore. 
Then  Glauce  thus :  "  Let  not  it  thee  offend, 
That  we  thus  rashly  through  thy  darksom  dore 
Unwares  have  prest ;  for  either  fatall  end, 
Or  other  mightie  cause,  us  two  did  hither  send." 

He  bad  tell  on  ;  And  then  she  thus  began. 
"  Now  have  three  Moones  with  borrowd  brothers  light 
Thrise  shined  faire,  and  thrise  seemd  dim  and  wan, 
Sith  a  sore  evill,  which  this  virgin  bright 
Tormenteth  and  doth  plonge  in  dolefull  plight, 
First  rooting  tooke ;  but  what  thing  it  mote  bee, 

.  Or  whence  it  sprong,  I  can  not  read  aright : 
But  this  I  read,  that,  but  if  remedee 

Thou  her  afford,  full  shortly  I  her  dead  shall  see." 

Therewith  th'  Enchaunter  softly  gan  to  smyle 
At  her  smooth  speeches,  weeting  inly  well 
That  she  to  him  dissembled  womanish  guyle, 
And  to  her  said :  "  Beldame,  by  that  ye  tell 
More  neede  of  leach-crafte  hath  your  Damozell, 
Then  of  my  skill :  who  helpe  may  have  elsewhere, 
In  vaine  seekes  wonders  out  of  Magick  spell." 
Th'old  woman  wox  half  blanck  those  wordes  to  heare, 
And  yet  was  loth  to  let  her  purpose  plaine  appeare ; 


And  to  him  said  :  "  Yf  any  leaches  skill, 
Or  other  learned  meanes,  could  have  redrest 
This  my  deare  daughters  deepe  engraffed  ill, 
Certes  I  should  be  loth  thee  to  molest ; 
But  this  sad  evill,  which  doth  her  infest, 
Doth  course  of  naturall  cause  farre  exceed, 
And  housed  is  within  her  hollow  brest, 
That  either  seemes  some  cursed  witches  deed, 
Or  evill  spright,  that  in  her  doth  such  torment  breed 

The  wisard  could  no  lenger  beare  her  bord, 
But,  brusting  forth  in  laughter,  to  her  sayd : 
"  Glauce,  what  needes  this  colourable  word 
To  cloke  the  cause  that  hath  it  selfe  bewrayd  ? 
Ne  ye,  fayre  Britomartis,  thus  arayd, 
More  hidden  are  then  Sunne  in  cloudy  vele  ; 
Whom  thy  good  fortune,  having  fate  obayd, 
Hath  hither  brought  for  succour  to  appele ; 
The  which  the  powres  to  thee  are  pleased  to  revele." 

The  doubtfull  Mayd,  seeing  her  selfe  descryde, 
Was  all  abasht,  and  her  pure  yvory 
Into  a  cleare  Carnation  suddeine  dyde  ; 
As  fayre  Aurora,  rysing  hastily, 
Doth  by  her  blushing  tell  that  she  did  lye 
All  night  in  old  Tithonus  frozen  bed, 
Whereof  she  seemes  ashamed  inwardly : 
But  her  olde  Nourse  was  nought  dishartened, 
But  vauntage  made  of  that  which  Merlin  had  ared  • 





Book  III. 
Canto  III. 

And  sayd ;  "  Sith  then  thou  knowest  all  our  griefe, 
(For  what  doest  not  thou  knowe  ?)  of  grace  I  pray, 
Pitty  our  playnt,  and  yield  us  meet  reliefe." 
With  that  the  Prophet  still  awhile  did  stay, 
And  then  his  spirite  thus  gan  foorth  display : 
"  Most  noble  Virgin,  that  by  fatall  lore 
Hast  learn'd  to  love,  let  no  whit  thee  dismay 
The  hard  beginne  that  meetes  thee  in  the  dore, 
And  with  sharpe  fits  thy  tender  hart  oppresseth  sore  : 

"  For  so  must  all  things  excellent  begin ; 
And  eke  enrooted  deepe  must  be  that  Tree, 
Whose  big  embodied  braunches  shall  not  lin 
Till  they  to  hevens  hight  forth  stretched  bee  : 
For  from  thy  wombe  a  famous  Progenee 
Shall  spring  out  of  the  auncient  Trojan  blood, 
Which  shall  revive  the  sleeping  memoree 
Of  those  same  antique  Peres,  the  hevens  brood, 
Which  Greeke  and  Asian  rivers  stayned  with  their  blood. 

"  Renowmed  kings,  and  sacred  Emperours, 
Thy  fruitfull  Ofspring,  shall  from  thee  descend ; 
Brave  Captaines,  and  most  mighty  warriours, 
That  shall  their  conquests  through  all  lands  extend, 
And  their  decayed  kingdomes  shall  amend : 
The  feeble  Britons,  broken  with  long  warre, 
They  shall  upreare,  and  mightily  defend 
Against  their  forren  foe  that  commes  from  farre, 
Till  universall  peace  compound  all  civill  jarre. 


"  It  was  not,  Britomart,  thy  wandring  eye 
Glauncing  unwares  in  charmed  looking  glas, 
But  the  streight  course  of  hevenly  destiny, 
Led  with  eternall  providence,  that  has 
Guyded  thy  glaunce,  to  bring  his  will  to  pas : 
Ne  is  thy  fate,  ne  is  thy  fortune  ill, 
To  love  the  prowest  knight  that  ever  was. 
Therefore  submit  thy  wayes  unto  his  will, 
And  doe  by  all  dew  meanes  thy  destiny  fulfill." 

"  But  read,"  (saide  Glauce)  "  thou  Magitian, 
What  meanes  shall  she  out  seeke,  or  what  waies  take  ? 
How  shall  she  know,  how  shall  she  finde  the  man  ? 
Or  what  needes  her  to  toyle,  sith  fates  can  make 
Way  for  themselves  their  purpose  to  pertake  ?  " 
Then  Merlin  thus :  "  Indeede  the  fates  are  firme, 
And  may  not  shrinck,  though  all  the  world  do  shake ; 
Yet  ought  mens  good  endevours  them  confirme, 
And  guyde  the  heavenly  causes  to  their  constant  terme. 

"  The  man,  whom  heavens  have  ordaynd  to  bee 
The  spouse  of  Britomart,  is  Arthegall : 
He  wonneth  in  the  land  of  Fayeree, 
Yet  is  no  Fary  borne,  ne  sib  at  all 
To  Elfes,  but  sprong  of  seed  terrestriall, 
And  whylome  by  false  Faries  stolne  away, 
Whyles  yet  in  infant  cradle  he  did  crall ; 
Ne  other  to  himselfe  is  knowne  this  day, 
But  that  he  by  an  Elfe  was  gotten  of  a  Fay  : 


Book  HI. 
Canto  III. 

Book  III. 
Canto  III. 

"  But  sooth  he  is  the  sonne  of  Gorloi's, 
And  brother  unto  Cador,  Cornish  king ; 
And  for  his  warlike  feates  renowmed  is, 
From  where  the  day  out  of  the  sea  doth  spring, 
Untill  the  closure  of  the  Evening  : 
From  thence  him,  firmely  bound  with  faithfull  band, 
To  this  his  native  soyle  thou  backe  shalt  bring, 
Strongly  to  ayde  his  countrey  to  withstand 
The  powre  of  forreine  Paynims  which  invade  thy  land. 

"  Great  ayd  thereto  his  mighty  puissaunce 
And  dreaded  name  shall  give  in  that  sad  day  ; 
Where  also  proofe  of  thy  prow  valiaunce 
Thou  then  shalt  make,  t'increase  thy  lover's  pray. 
Long  time  ye  both  in  armes  shall  beare  great  sway, 
Till  thy  wombes  burden  thee  from  them  do  call, 
And  his  last  fate  him  from  thee  take  away  ; 
Too  rathe  cut  off  by  practise  criminall 
Of  secrete  foes,  that  him  shall  make  in  mischiefe  fall. 

"  With  thee  yet  shall  he  leave,  for  memory 
Of  his  late  puissaunce,  his  ymage  dead, 
That  living  him  in  all  activity 
To  thee  shall  represent.    He,  from  the  head 
Of  his  coosen  Constantius,  without  dread 
Shall  take  the  crowne  that  was  his  fathers  right, 
And  therewith  crowne  himselfe  in  th'others  stead : 
Then  shall  he  issew  forth  with  dreadfull  might 
Against  his  Saxon  foes  in  bloody  field  to  fight. 


"  Like  as  a  Lyon  that  in  drowsie  cave 
Hath  long  time  slept,  himselfe  so  shall  he  shake ; 
And  comming  forth  shall  spred  his  banner  brave 
Over  the  troubled  South,  that  it  shall  make 
The  warlike  Mertians  for  feare  to  quake : 
Thrise  shall  he  fight  with  them,  and  twise  shall  win ; 
But  the  third  time  shall  fayre  accordaunce  make : 
And,  if  he  then  with  viftorie  can  lin, 
He  shall  his  dayes  with  peace  bring  to  his  earthly  In. 

Book  III. 
Canto  III. 

"  His  sonne,  hight  Vortipore,  shall  him  succeede 
In  kingdome,  but  not  in  felicity  : 
Yet  shall  he  long  time  warre  with  happy  speed, 
And  with  great  honour  many  batteills  try ; 
But  at  the  last  to  th'  importunity 
Of  froward  fortune  shall  be  forst  to  yield : 
But  his  sonne  Malgo  shall  full  mightily 
Avenge  his  fathers  losse  with  speare  and  shield, 
And  his  proud  foes  discomfit  in  victorious  field. 

"  Behold  the  man  !  and  tell  me,  Britomart, 
If  ay  more  goodly  creature  thou  didst  see  ? 
How  like  a  Gyaunt  in  each  manly  part 
Beares  he  himselfe  with  portly  majestee, 
That  one  of  th'old  Heroes  seemes  to  bee ! 
He  the  six  Islands,  comprovinciall 
In  auncient  times  unto  great  Britainee, 
Shall  to  the  same  reduce,  and  to  him  call 
Their  sondry  kings  to  do  their  homage  severall. 






Book  III. 
Canto  III. 

"  All  which  his  sonne  Careticus  awhile 
Shall  well  defend,  and  Saxons  powre  suppresse ; 
Untill  a  straunger  king,  from  unknowne  soyle 
Arriving,  him  with  multitude  oppresse ; 
Great  Gormond,  having  with  huge  mightinesse 
Ireland  subdewd,  and  therein  fixt  his  throne, 
Like  a  swift  Otter,  fell  through  emptinesse, 
Shall  overswim  the  sea,  with  many  one 
Of  his  Norveyses,  to  assist  the  Britons  fone. 

"  He  in  his  furie  all  shall  overronne, 
And  holy  Church  with  faithlesse  handes  deface, 
That  thy  sad  people,  utterly  fordonne, 
Shall  to  the  utmost  mountaines  fly  apace. 
Was  never  so  great  waste  in  any  place, 
Nor  so  fowle  outrage  doen  by  living  men ; 
For  all  thy  Citties  they  shall  sacke  and  race, 
And  the  greene  grasse  that  groweth  they  shall  bren, 
That  even  the  wilde  beast  shall  dy  in  starved  den. 

"  Whiles  thus  thy  Britons  doe  in  languour  pine, 
Proud  Etheldred  shall  from  the  North  arise, 
Serving  th'ambitious  will  of  Augustine, 
And,  passing  Dee,  with  hardy  enterprise 
Shall  backe  repulse  the  valiaunt  Brockwell  twise, 
And  Bangor  with  massacred  Martyrs  fill, 
But  the  third  time  shall  rew  his  foolhardise : 
For  Cadwan,  pittying  his  peoples  ill, 
Shall  stoutly  him  defeat,  and  thousand  Saxons  kill. 


"  But  after  him,  Cadwallin  mightily 
On  his  sonne  Edwin  all  those  wrongs  shall  wreake ; 
Ne  shall  availe  the  wicked  sorcery 
Of  false  Pellite  his  purposes  to  breake, 
But  him  shall  slay,  and  on  a  gallowes  bleak 
Shall  give  th'enchaunter  his  unhappy  hire. 
Then  shall  the  Britons,  late  dismayd  and  weake, 
From  their  long  vassalage  gin  to  respire, 
And  on  their  Paynim  foes  avenge  their  ranckled  ire. 

"  Ne  shall  he  yet  his  wrath  so  mitigate, 
Till  both  the  sonnes  of  Edwin  he  have  slayne, 
Offricke  and  Osricke,  twinnes  unfortunate, 
Both  slaine  in  battaile  upon  Layburne  playne, 
Together  with  the  king  of  Louthiane, 
Hight  Adin,  and  the  king  of  Orkeny, 
Both  joynt  partakers  of  their  fatall  payne  : 
But  Penda,  fearefull  of  like  desteny, 
Shall  yield  him  selfe  his  liegeman,  and  sweare  fealty. 

"  Him  shall  he  make  his  fatall  Instrument 
T'afflicl  the  other  Saxons  unsubdewd ; 
He  marching  forth  with  fury  insolent 
Against  the  good  king  Oswald,  who  indewd 
With  heavenly  powre,  and  by  Angels  reskewd, 
Al  holding  crosses  in  their  hands  on  hye, 
Shall  him  defeate  withouten  blood  imbrewd: 
Of  which  that  field,  for  endlesse  memory, 
Shall  Hevenfield  be  cald  to  all  posterity. 

593  3  Y 

Book  III. 
Canto  III. 




Book  III. 
Canto  III. 

"  Whereat  Cadwallin  wroth  shall  forth  issew, 
And  an  huge  hoste  into  Northumber  lead, 
With  which  he  godly  Oswald  shall  subdew, 
And  crowne  with  martiredome  his  sacred  head  : 
Whose  brother  Oswin,  daunted  with  like  dread, 
With  price  of  silver  shall  his  kingdome  buy ; 
And  Penda,  seeking  him  adowne  to  tread, 
Shall  tread  adowne,  and  doe  him  fowly  dye ; 
But  shall  with  guifts  his  Lord  Cadwallin  pacify. 

"  Then  shall  Cadwallin  die ;  and  then  the  raine 
Of  Britons  eke  with  him  attonce  shall  dye ; 
Ne  shall  the  good  Cadwallader,  with  paine 
Or  powre,  be  hable  it  to  remedy, 
When  the  full  time,  prefixt  by  destiny, 
Shal  be  expird  of  Britons  regiment : 
For  heven  it  selfe  shall  their  successe  envy, 
And  them  with  plagues  and  murrins  pestilent 
Consume,  till  all  their  warlike  puissaunce  be  spent. 

"Yet' after  all  these  sorrowes,  and  huge  hills 
Of  dying  people,  during  eight  yeares  space, 
Cadwallader,  not  yielding  to  his  ills, 
From  Armoricke,  where  long  in  wretched  cace 
He  liv'd,  retourning  to  his  native  place, 
Shal  be  by  vision  staide  from  his  intent : 
For  th'  heavens  have  decreed  to  displace 
The  Britons  for  their  sinnes  dew  punishment 
And  to  the  Saxons  over-give  their  government. 


"  Then  woe,  and  woe,  and  everlasting  woe, 
Be  to  the  Briton  babe  that  shal  be  borne 
To  live  in  thraldome  of  his  fathers  foe  ! 
Late  king,  now  captive  ;  late  lord,  now  forlorne  ; 
The  worlds  reproch  ;  the  cruell  vidtors  scorne  ; 
Banisht  from  princely  bowre  to  wastefull  wood ! 
O !  who  shal  helpe  me  to  lament  and  mourne 
The  royall  seed,  the  antique  Trojan  blood, 
Whose  empire  lenger  here  then  ever  any  stood  ?  " 

The  Damzell  was  full  deepe  empassioned 

Both  for  his  griefe,  and  for  her  peoples  sake, 

Whose  future  woes  so  plaine  he  fashioned  ; 

And,  sighing  sore,  at  length  him  thus  bespake : 

"  Ah !  but  will  hevens  fury  never  slake, 
•   Nor  vengeaunce  huge  relent  it  selfe  at  last  ? 

Will  not  long  misery  late  mercy  make, 

But  shall  their  name  for  ever  be  defaste, 
And  quite  from  off  the  earth  their  memory  be  raste  ?  " 

"  Nay  but  the  terme  "  (sayd  he)  "  is  limited, 
That  in  this  thraldome  Britons  shall  abide ; 
And  the  just  revolution  measured 
That  they  as  Straungers  shal  be  notifide : 
For  twise  fowre  hundreth  yeares  shalbe  supplide, 
Ere  they  to  former  rule  restor'd  shal  bee, 
And  their  importune  fates  all  satisfide  : 
Yet,  during  this  their  most  obscuritee, 
Their  beames  shall  ofte  breake  forth,  that  men  them  faire  may  see. 





Book  III. 
Canto  III. 

Book  III. 
Canto  III. 

"  For  Rhodoricke,  whose  surname  shal  be  Great, 
Shall  of  him  selfe  a  brave  ensample  shew, 
That  Saxon  kinges  his  friendship  shall  intreat ; 
And  Howell  Dha  shall  goodly  well  indew 
The  salvage  minds  with  skill  of  just  and  trew : 
Then  Griffyth  Conan  also  shall  upreare 
His  dreaded  head,  and  the  old  sparkes  renew 
Of  native  corage,  that  his  foes  shall  feare, 
Least  back  againe  the  kingdom  he  from  them  should  beare. 

"  Ne  shall  the  Saxons  selves  all  peaceably 
Enjoy  the  crowne,  which  they  from  Britons  wonne 
First  ill,  and  after  ruled  wickedly ; 
For,  ere  two  hundred  yeares  be  full  outronne, 
There  shall  a  Raven,  far  from  rising  Sunne, 
With  his  wide  wings  upon  them  fiercely  fly, 
And  bid  his  faithlesse  chickens  overronne 
The  fruitfull  plaines,  with  fell  cruelty 
In  their  avenge  tread  downe  the  victors  surquedry. 

"  Yet  shall  a  third  both  these  and  thine  subdew. 
There  shall  a  Lion  from  the  sea-bord  wood 
Of  Neustria  come  roring,  with  a  crew 
Of  hungry  whelpes,  his  battailous  bold  brood, 
Whose  clawes  were  newly  dipt  in  cruddy  blood, 
That  from  the  Daniske  Tyrants  head  shall  rend 
Th'usurped  crowne,  as  if  that  he  were  wood, 
And  the  spoile  of  the  countrey  conquered 
Emongst  his  young  ones  shall  divide  with  bountyhed. 


"  Tho,  when  the  terme  is  full  accomplishid, 
There  shall  a  sparke  of  fire,  which  hath  long-while 
Bene  in  his  ashes  raked  up  and  hid, 
Bee  freshly  kindled  in  the  fruitfull  He 
Of  Mona,  where  it  lurked  in  exile ; 
Which  shall  breake  forth  into  bright  burning  flame, 
And  reach  into  the  house  that  beares  the  stile 
Of  roiall  majesty  and  soveraine  name : 
So  shall  the  Briton  blood  their  crowne  agayn  reclame. 




Book  ilk 
Canto  III. 

"  Thenceforth  eternall  union  shall  be  made 
Betweene  the  nations  different  afore, 
And  sacred  Peace  shall  lovingly  persuade 
The  warlike  minds  to  learne  her  goodly  lore, 
And  civile  armes  to  exercise  no  more : 
Then  shall  a  royall  Virgin  raine,  which  shall 
Stretch  her  white  rod  over  the  Belgicke  shore, 
And  the  great  Castle  smite  so  sore  withall, 
That  it  shall  make  him  shake,  and  shortly  learn  to  fall. 

"  But  yet  the  end  is  not." — There  Merlin  stayd, 
As  overcomen  of  the  spirites  powre, 
Or  other  ghastly  spectacle  dismayd, 
That  secretly  he  saw,  yet  note  discpure : 
Which  suddein  fitt,  and  halfe  extatick  stoure, 
When  the  two  fearefull  wemen  saw,  they  grew 
Greatly  confused  in  behaveoure. 
At  last,  the  fury  past,  to  former  hew 
Hee  turnd  againe,  and  chearfull  looks  as  earst  did  sh 





Book  HI. 
Canto  III. 

Then,  when  them  selves  they  well  instructed  had 
Of  all  that  needed  them  to  be  inquird, 
They  both,  conceiving  hope  of  comfort  glad, 
With  lighter  hearts  unto  their  home  retird ; 
Where  they  in  secret  counsell  close  conspird, 
How  to  effect  so  hard  an  enterprize, 
And  to  possesse  the  purpose  they  desird : 
Now  this,  now  that,  twixt  them  they  did  devize; 
And  diverse  plots  did  frame  to  maske  in  strange  disguise. 

At  last  the  Nourse  in  her  foolhardy  wit 
Conceiv'd  a  bold  devise,  and  thus  bespake : 
"  Daughter,  I  deeme  that  counsel  aye  most  fit, 
That  of  the  time  doth  dew  advauntage  take. 
Ye  see  that  good  king  Uther  now  doth  make 
Strong  warre  upon  the  Paynim  brethren,  hight 
Octa  and  Oza,  whome  hee  lately  brake 
Beside  Cayr  Verolame  in  victorious  fight, 
That  now  all  Britany  doth  burne  in  armes  bright. 

"  That,  therefore,  nought  our  passage  may  empeach, 
Let  us  in  feigned  armes  our  selves  disguize, 
And  our  weake  hands  (need  makes  good  schollers)  teach 
The  dreadful  speare  and  shield  to  exercize  : 
Ne  certe's,  daughter,  that  same  warlike  wize, 
I  weene,  would  you  misseeme ;  for  ye  beene  tall, 
And  large  of  limbe  t'atchieve  an  hard  emprize ; 
Ne  ought  ye  want  but  skil,  which  practize  small 
Wil  bring,  and  shortly  make  you  a  mayd  Martiall. 


"  And,  sooth,  it  ought  your  corage  much  inflame 
To  heare  so  often,  in  that  royall  hous, 
From  whence,  to  none  inferior,  ye  came, 
Bards  tell  of  many  wemen  valorous, 
Which  have  full  many  feats  adventurous 
Performd,  in  paragone  of  proudest  men  : 
The  bold  Bunduca,  whose  victorious 
Exployts  made  Rome  to  quake ;  stout  Guendolen  ; 
Renowmed  Martia ;  and  redoubted  Emmilen. 

"  And,  that  which  more  then  all  the  rest  may  sway, 
Late  dayes  ensample,  which  these  eyes  beheld  : 
In  the  last  field  before  Menevia, 
Which  Uther  with  those  forrein  Pagans  held, 
I  saw  a  Saxon  Virgin,  the  which  feld 
Great  Ulfin  thrise  upon  the  bloody  playne ; 
And,  had  not  Carados  her  hand  withheld 
From  rash  revenge,  she  had  him  surely  slayne  : 
Yet  Carados  himselfe  from  her  escapt  with  payne." 

"  Ah  !  read,"  (quoth  Britomart)  "  how  is  she  hight  ?  " 
"  Fayre  Angela  "  (quoth  she)  "  men  do  her  call, 
No  whit  lesse  fayre  then  terrible  in  fight : 
She  hath  the  leading  of  a  Martiall 
An'd  mightie  people,  dreaded  more  then  all 
The  other  Saxons,  which  doe,  for  her  sake 
And  love,  themselves  of  her  name  Angles  call. 
Therefore,  faire  Infant,  her  ensample  make 
Unto  thy  selfe,  and  equall  corage  to  thee  take." 


Book  III. 
Canto  III. 





Book  III. 
Canto  III. 

Her  harty  wordes  so  deepe  into  the  mynd 
Of  the  yong  Damzell  sunke,  that  great  desire 
Of  warlike  armes  in  her  forthwith  they  tynd, 
And  generous  stout  courage  did  inspyre, 
That  she  resolv'd,  unweeting  to  her  Syre, 
Advent'rous  knighthood  on  her  selfe  to  don  ; 
And  counseld  with  her  Nourse  her  Maides  attyre 
To  turne  into  a  massy  habergeon, 
And  bad  her  all  things  put  in  readinesse  anon. 


Th'old  woman  nought  that  needed  did  omit, 
But  all  thinges  did  conveniently  purvay. 
It  fortuned  (so  time  their  turne  did  fitt) 
A  band  of  Britons,  ryding  on  forray 
Few  dayes  before,  had  gotten  a  great  pray 
Of  Saxon  goods ;  emongst  the  which  was  seene 
A  goodly  Armour,  and  full  rich  aray, 
Which  long'd  to  Angela,  the  Saxon  Queene, 
All  fretted  round  with  gold,  and  goodly  wel  beseene. 

The  same,  with  all  the  other  ornaments, 
King  Ryence  caused  to  be  hanged  hy 
In  his  chiefe  Church,  for  endlesse  moniments 
Of  his  successe  and  gladfull  victory  : 
Of  which  her  selfe  avising  readily, 
In  th'evening  late  old  Glauce  thither  led 
Faire  Britomart,  and,  that  same  Armory 
Downe  taking,  her  therein  appareled 
Well  as  she  might,  and  with  brave  bauldrick  garnished. 




Beside  those  armes  there  stood  a  mightie  speare, 
Which  Bladud  made  by  Magick  art  of  yore, 
And  usd  the  same  in  batteill  aye  to  beare ; 
Sith  which  it  had  beene  here  preserv'd  in  store, 
For  his  great  virtues  proved  long  afore  : 
For  never  wight  so  fast  in  sell  could  sit, 
But  him  perforce  unto  the  ground  it  bore. 
Both  speare  she  tooke  and  shield  which  hong  by  it ; 
Both  speare  and  shield  of  great  powre,  for  her  purpose  fit. 

Thus  when  she  had  the  virgin  all  arayd, 
Another  harnesse  which  did  hang  thereby 
About  her  selfe  she  dight,  that  the  yong  Mayd 
She  might  in  equall  armes  accompany, 
And  as  her  Squyre  attend  her  carefully. 
Tho  to  their  ready  Steedes  they  clombe  full  light, 
And  through  back  waies,  that  none  might  them  espy, 
Covered  with  secret  cloud  of  silent  night, 
Themselves  they  forth  convaid,  and  passed  forward  right. 

Ne  rested  they,  till  that  to  Faery  lond 
They  came,  as  Merlin  them  directed  late : 
Where,  meeting  with  this  Redcrosse  Knight,  she  fond 
Of  diverse  thinges  discourses  to  dilate, 
But  most  of  Arthegall  and  his  estate. 
At  last  their  wayes  so  fell,  that  they  mote  part : 
Then  each  to  other,  well  affectionate, 
Friendship  professed  with  unfained  hart. 
The  Redcrosse  Knight  diverst,  but  forth  rode  Britomart. 

603  3  z 




Book  III. 
Canto  III. 


HERE  is  the  Antique  glory  now  become, 
That  whylome  wont  in  wemen  to  appeare  ? 
Where  be  the  brave  atchievements  doen  by  some  ? 
Where  be  the  battels,  where  the  shield  and  speare, 
And  all  the  conquests  which  them  high  did  reare, 
That  matter  made  for  famous  Poets  verse, 

And  boastfull  men  so  oft  abasht  to  heare  ? 
Beene  they  all  dead,  and  laide  in  dolefull  herse, 
Or  doen  they  onely  sleepe,  and  shall  againe  reverse  i 

If  they  be  dead,  then  woe  is  me  therefore ; 
But  if  they  sleepe,  O  let  them  soone  awake  : 
For  all  too  long  I  burne  with  envy  sore 
To  heare  the  warlike  feates,  which  Homere  spake 
Of  bold  Penthesilee,  which  made  a  lake 
Of  Greekish  blood  so  oft  in  Trojan  plaine ; 
But  when  I  reade,  how  stout  Debora  strake 
Proud  Sisera,  and  how  CamiH'  hath  slaine 
The  huge  Orsilochus,  I  swell  with  great  disdaine. 





Book  III 
Canto  IV. 

Yet  these,  and  all  that  els  had  puissaunce, 
Cannot  with  noble  Britomart  compare, 
As  well  for  glorie  of  great  valiaunce, 
As  for  pure  chastitee  and  vertue  rare, 
That  all  her  goodly  deedes  doe  well  declare. 
Well  worthie  stock,  from  which  the  branches  sprong 
That  in  late  yeares  so  faire  a  blossome  bare, 
As  thee,  O  Queene  !  the  matter  of  my  song, 
Whose  lignage  from  this  Lady  I  derive  along. 

Who  when,  through  speaches  with  the  Redcrosse  Knight, 
She  learned  had  th'estate  of  Arthegall, 
And  in  each  point  her  selfe  informd  aright, 
A  friendly  league  of  love  perpetuall 
She  with' him  bound,  and  Conge  tooke  withall : 
Then  he  forth  on  his  journey  did  proceede, 
To  seeke  adventures  which  mote  him  befall, 
And  win  him  worship  through  his  warlike  deed, 
Which  alwaies  of  his  paines  he  made  the  chiefest  meed. 

But  Britomart  kept  on  her  former  course, 
Ne  ever  dofte  her  armes,  but  all  the  way 
Grew  pensive  through  that  amarous  discourse, 
By  which  the  Redcrosse  knight  did  earst  display 
Her  lovers  shape,  and  chevalrous  aray  : 
A  thousand  thoughts  she  fashiond  in  her  mind, 
And  in  her  feigning  fancie  did  pourtray 
Him  such  as  fittest  she  for  love  could  find, 
Wise,  warlike,  personable,  courteous,  and  kind. 


With  such  selfe-pleasing  thoughts  her  wound  she  fed, 
And  thought  so  to  beguile  her  grievous  smart ; 
But  so  her  smart  was  much  more  grievous  bred, 
And  the  deepe  wound  more  deep  engord  her  hart, 
That  nought  but  death  her  dolour  mote  depart, 
So  forth  she  rode,  without  repose  or  rest, 
Searching  all  lands  and  each  remotest  part, 
Following  the  guydance  of  her  blinded  guest, 
Till  that  to  the  sea-coast  at  length  she  her  addrest. 




Book  III. 
Canto  IV. 

There  she  alighted  from  her  light-foot  beast, 
And  sitting  downe  upon  the  rocky  shore, 
Badd  her  old  Squyre  unlace  her  lofty  creast : 
Tho  having  vewd  awhile  the  surges  hore 
That  gainst  the  craggy  clifts  did  loudly  rore, 
And  in  their  raging  surquedry  disdaynd 
That  the  fast  earth  affronted  them  so  sore, 
And  their  devouring  covetize  restraynd ; 
Thereat  she  sighed  deepe,  and  after  thus  complaynd. 

"  Huge  sea  of  sorrow  and  tempestuous  griefe, 
Wherein  my  feeble  barke  is  tossed  long 
Far  from  the  hoped  haven  of  reliefe, 
Why  doe  thy  cruel  bi Howes  beat  so  strong, 
And  thy  moyst  mountaines  each  on  others  throng, 
Threatning  to  swallow  up  my  fearefull  lyfe  ? 
O  !  doe  thy  cruell  wrath  and  spightfull  wrong 
At  length  allay,  and  stint  thy  stormy  strife, 
Which  in  thy  troubled  bowels  raignes  and  rageth  ryfe. 





Book  III. 
Canto  IV. 

"  For  els  my  feeble  vessell,  crazd  and  crackt 
Through  thy  strong  buffets  and  outrageous  blowes, 
Cannot  endure,  but  needes  it  must  be  wrackt 
On  the  rough  rocks,  or  on  the  sandy  shallowes, 
The  whiles  that  love  it  steres,  and  fortune  rowes : 
Love,  my  lewd  Pilott,  hath  a  restlesse  minde ; 
And  fortune,  Boteswaine,  no  assurance  knowes ; 
But  saile  withouten  starres  gainst  tyde  and  winde : 
How  can  they  other  doe,  sith  both  are  bold  and  blinde? 

"  Thou  God  of  windes,  that  raignest  in  the  seas, 
That  raignest  also  in  the  Continent, 
At  last  blow  up  some  gentle  gale  of  ease, 
The  which  may  bring  my  ship,  ere  it  be  rent, 
Unto  the  gladsome  port  of  her  intent. 
Then,  when  I  shall  my  selfe  in  safety  see, 
A  table,  for  eternall  moniment 
Of  thy  great  grace  and  my  great  jeopardee, 
Great  Neptune,  I  avow  to  hallow  unto  thee  !  " 

Then  sighing  softly  sore,  and  inly  deepe, 
She  shut  up  all  her  plaint  in  privy  griefe 
For  her  great  courage  would  not  let  her  weepe, 
Till  that  old  Glauce  gan  with  sharpe  repriefe 
Her  to  restraine,  and  give  her  good  reliefe 
Through  hope  of  those,  which  Merlin  had  her  told 
Should  of  her  name  and  nation  be  chiefe, 
And  fetch  their  being  from  the  sacred  mould 
Of  her  immortall  womb,  to  be  in  heaven  enrold. 


Thus  as  she  her  recomforted,  she  spyde 
Where  far  away  one,  all  in  armour  bright, 
With  hasty  gallop  towards  her  did  ryde. 
Her  dolour  soone  she  ceast,  and  on  her  dight 
Her  Helmet,  to  her  Courser  mounting  light : 
Her  former  sorrow  into  suddein  wrath, 
Both  coosen  passions  of  distroubled  spright, 
Converting,  forth  she  beates  the  dusty  path  : 
Love  and  despight  attonce  her  courage  kindled  hath. 

As,  when  a  foggy  mist  hath  overcast 
The  face  of  heven,  and  the  cleare  ayre  engroste, 
The  world  in  darkenes  dwels ;  till  that  at  last 
The  watry  Southwinde,  from  the  seabord  coste 
Upblowing,  doth  disperse  the  vapour  lo'ste, 
And  poures  it  selfe  forth  in  a  stormy  showre  : 
So  the  fayre  Britomart,  having  disclo'ste 
Her  clowdy  care  into  a  wrathfull  stowre, 
The  mist  of  griefe  dissolv'd  did  into  vengeance  powre. 

Eftsoones,  her  goodly  shield  addressing  fayre, 
That  mortall  speare  she  in  her  hand  did  take, 
And  unto  battaill  did  her  selfe  prepayre. 
The  knight,  approching,  sternely  her  bespake  : 
"  Sir  knight,  that  doest  thy  voyage  rashly  make 
By  this  forbidden  way  in  my  despight, 
Ne  doest  by  others  death  ensample  take, 
I  read  thee  soone  retyre,  whiles  thou  hast  might, 
Least  afterwards  it  be  too  late  to  take  thy  flight." 


Ythrild  with  deepe  disdaine  of  his  proud  threat, 
She  shortly  thus  :  "  Fly  they,  that  need  to  fly  ; 
Wordes  fearen  babes.    I  meane  not  thee  entreat 
To  passe,  but  maugre  thee  will  passe  or  dy." 
Ne  lenger  stayd  for  th'other  to  reply, 
But  with  sharpe  speare  the  rest  made  dearly  knowne. 
Strongly  the  straunge  knight  ran,  and  sturdily 
Strooke  her  full  on  the  brest,  that  made  her  downe 
Decline  her  head,  and  touch  her  crouper  with  her  crown. 

But  she  againe  him  in  the  shield  did  smite 
With  so  fierce  furie  and  great  puissaunce, 
That,  through  his  three-square  scuchin  percing  quite 
And  through  his  mayled  hauberque,  by  mischaunce 
The  wicked  Steele  through  his  left  side  did  glaunce. 
Him  so  transfixed  she  before  her  bore 
Beyond  his  croupe,  the  length  of  all  her  launce  ; 
Till,  sadly  soucing  on  the  sandy  shore, 
He  tombled  on  an  heape,  and  wallowd  in  his  gore. 

Like  as  the  sacred  Oxe  that  carelesse  stands, 
With  gilden  homes  and  flowry  girlonds  crownd, 
Proud  of  his  dying  honor  and  deare  bandes, 
Whiles  th'altars  fume  with  frankincense  arownd, 
All  suddeinly,  with  mortall  stroke  astownd, 
Doth  groveling  fall,  and  with  his  streaming  gore 
Distaines  the  pillours  and  the  holy  grownd, 
And  the  faire  flowres  that  decked  him  afore : 
So  fell  proud  Marinell  upon  the  pretious  shore. 


The  martiall  Mayd  stayd  not  him  to  lament, 
But  forward  rode,  and  kept  her  ready  way 
Along  the  strond ;  which,  as  she  over-went, 
She  saw  bestrowed  all  with  rich  aray 
Of  pearles  and  pretious  stones  of  great  assay, 
And  all  the  gravell  mixt  with  golden  owre : 
Whereat  she  wondred  much,  but  would  not  stay 
For  gold,  or  perles,  or  pretious  stones,  an  howre, 
But  them  despised  all ;  for  all  was  in  her  powre. 

Book  III. 
Canto  IV. 

Whiles  thus  he  lay  in  deadly  stonishment, 
Tydings  hereof  came  to  his  mothers  eare : 
His  mother  was  the  blacke-browd  Cymoent, 
The  daughter  of  great  Nereus,  which  did  beare 
This  warlike  sonne  unto  an  earthly  peare, 
The  famous  Dumarin ;  who,  on  a  day 
Finding  the  Nymph  asleepe  in  secret  wheare, 
As  he  by  chaunce  did  wander  that  same  way, 
Was  taken  with  her  love,  and  by  her  closely  lay. 

There  he  this  knight  of  her  begot,  whom  borne 
She,  of  his  father,  Marinell  did  name ; 
And  in  a  rocky  cave,  as  wight  forlorne, 
Long  time  she  fostred  up,  till  he  became 
A  mighty  man  at  armes,  and  mickle  fame 
Did  get  through  great  adventures  by  him  donne : 
For  never  man  he  suffred  by  that  same 
Rich  strond  to  travell,  whereas  he  did  wonne 
But  that  he  must  do  battail  with  the  Sea-nymph'es  sonne. 

6l3  4a 

THE  An  hundred  knights  of  honorable  name 

OUEENE  He  had  subdew'd'  and  them  his  vassals  made  ; 

Book  III  That  through  all  Faerie  lond  his  noble  fame 

Canto  IV.  Now  blazed  was,  and  feare  did  all  invade, 

That  none  durst  passen  through  that  perilous  glade : 
And  to  advaunce  his  name  and  glory  more, 
Her  Sea-god  syre  she  dearely  did  perswade 
T'endow  her  sonne  with  threasure  and  rich  store 
Bove  all  the  sonnes  that  were  of  earthly  wombes  ybore. 

The  God  did  graunt  his  daughters  deare  demaund, 
To  doen  his  Nephew  in  all  riches  flow ; 
Eftsoones  his  heaped  waves  he  did  commaund 
Out  of  their  hollow  bosome  forth  to  throw 
All  the  huge  threasure,  which  the  sea  below 
Had  in  his  greedy  gulfe  devoured  deepe, 
And  him  enriched  through  the  overthrow 
And  wreckes  of  many  wretches,  which  did  weepe 
And  often  wayle  their  wealth,  which  he  from  them  did  keepe 

Shortly  upon  that  shore  there  heaped  was 
Exceeding  riches  and  all  pretious  things, 
The  spoyle  of  all  the  world ;  that  it  did  pas 
The  wealth  of  th'  East,  and  pompe  of  Persian  kings : 
Gold,  amber,  yvorie,  perles,  owches,  rings, 
And  all  that  els  was  pretious  and  deare, 
The  sea  unto  him  voluntary  brings ; 
That  shortly  he  a  great  Lord  did  appeare, 
As  was  in  all  the  lond  of  Faery,  or  else  wheare. 


Thereto  he  was  a  doughty  dreaded  knight,  THE 
Tryde  often  to  the  scath  of  many  Deare,  OUFFNF 
That  none  in  equall  armes  him  matchen  might :  Book  III 

The  which  his  mother  seeing  gan  to  feare  Canto  IV. 

Least  his  too  haughtie  hardines  might  reare 
Some  hard  mishap  in  hazard  of  his  life. 
Forthy  she  oft  him  counseld  to  forbeare 
The  bloody  batteill  and  to  stirre  up  strife, 
But  after  all  his  warre  to  rest  his  wearie  knife. 

And,  for  his  more  assuraunce,  she  inquir'd 
One  day  of  Proteus  by  his  mighty  spell 
(For  Proteus  was  with  prophecy  inspir'd) 
Her  deare  sonnes  destiny  to  her  to  tell, 
And  the  sad  end  of  her  sweet  Marinell : 
Who,  through  foresight  of  his  eternall  skill, 
Bad  her  from  womankind  to  keepe  him  well, 
For  of  a  woman  he  should  have  much  ill ; 
A  virgin  straunge  and  stout  him  should  dismay  or  kill. 

Forthy  she  gave  him  warning  every  day 
The  love  of  women  not  to  entertaine ; 
A  lesson  too  too  hard  for  living  clay 
From  love  in  course  of  nature  to  refraine. 
Yet  he  his  mothers  lore  did  well  retaine, 
And  ever  from  fayre  Ladies  love  did  fly ; 
Yet  many  Ladies  fayre  did  oft  complaine, 
That  they  for  love  of  him  would  algates  dy : 
Dy,  who  so  list  for  him,  he  was  loves  enimy. 





Book  III. 
Canto  IV. 

But  ah  !  who  can'  deceive  his  destiny, 
Or  weene  by  warning  to  avoyd  his  fate  ? 
That,  when  he  sleepes  in  most  security 
And  safest  seemes,  him  soonest  doth  amate, 
And  findeth  dew  erFedt  or  soone  or  late ; 
So  feeble  is  the  powre  of  fleshly  arme. 
His  mother  bad  him  wemens  love  to  hate, 
For  she  of  womans  force  did  feare  no  harme ; 
So,  weening  to  have  arm'd  him,  she  did  quite  disarme. 

This  was  that  woman,  this  that  deadly  wownd, 
That  Proteus  prophecide  should  him  dismay ; 
The  which  his  mother  vainely  did  expownd 
To  be  hart-wownding  love,  which  should  assay 
To  bring  her  sonne  unto  his  last  decay. 
So  tide  be  the  termes  of  mortall  state, 
And  full  of  subtile  sophismes,  which  do  play 
With  double  senses,  and  with  false  debate, 
T'approve  the  unknowen  purpose  of  eternall  fate. 

Too  trew  the  famous  Marinell  it  fownd, 
Who,  through  late  triall,  on  that  wealthy  Strond 
Inglorious  now  lies  in  sencelesse  swownd, 
Through  heavy  stroke  of  Britomartis  hond. 
Which  when  his  mother  deare  did  understond, 
And  heavy  tydings  heard,  whereas  she  playd 
Amongst  her  watry  sisters  by  a  pond, 
Gathering  sweete  dafFadillyes,  to  have  made 
Gay  girlonds  from  the  Sun  their  forheads  faire  to  shade ; 


Eftesoones  both  flowres  and  girlonds  far  away 
Shee  flong,  and  her  faire  deawy  lockes  yrent ; 
To  sorrow  huge  she  turnd  her  former  play, 
And  gamesom  merth  to  grievous  dreriment : 
Shee  threw  her  selfe  downe  on  the  Continent, 
Ne  word  did  speake,  but  lay  as  in  a  swowne, 
Whiles  all  her  sisters  did  for  her  lament 
With  yelling  outcries,  and  with  shrieking  sowne ; 
And  every  one  did  teare  her  girlond  from  her  crowne. 




Book  m. 

Canto  IV. 

Soone  as  shee  up  out  of  her  deadly  fitt 
Arose,  shee  bad  her  charett  to  be  brought ; 
And  all  her  sisters  that  with  her  did  sitt 
Bad  eke  attonce  their  charetts  to  be  sought : 
Tho,  full  of  bitter  griefe  and  pensife  thought, 
She  to  her  wagon  clombe ;  clombe  all  the  rest, 
And  forth  together  went  with  sorow  fraught. 
The  waves,  obedient  to  theyr  beheast, 
Them  yielded  ready  passage,  and  their  rage  surceast. 

Great  Neptune  stoode  amazed  at  their  sight, 
Whiles  on  his  broad  rownd  backe  they  softly  slid, 
And  eke  him  selfe  mournd  at  their  mournful  plight, 
Yet  wist  not  what  their  wailing  ment ;  yet  did, 
For  great  compassion  of  their  sorow,  bid 
His  mighty  waters  to  them  buxome  bee : 
Eftesoones  the  roaring  billowes  still  abid, 
And  all  the  griesly  Monsters  of  the  See 
Stood  gaping  at  their  gate,  and  wondred  them  to  see. 





Book  III. 
Canto  IV. 

A  teme  of  Dolphins  raunged  in  aray 
Drew  the  smooth  charett  of  sad  Cymoent : 
They  were  all  taught  by  Triton  to  obay 
To  the  long  raynes  at  her  commaundement : 
As  swifte  as  swallowes  on  the  waves  they  went, 
That  their  brode  flaggy  finnes  no  fome  did  reare, 
Ne  bubling  rowndell  they  behinde  them  sent. 
The  rest,  of  other  fishes  drawen  weare, 
Which  with  their  finny  oars  the  swelling  sea  did  sheare. 

Soone  as  they  bene  arriv'd  upon  the  brim 
Of  the  Rich  Strond,  their  charets  they  forlore, 
And  let  their  temed  fishes  softly  swim 
Along  the  margent  of  the  fomy  shore, 
Least  they  their  finnes  should  bruze,  and  surbate  sore 
Their  tender  feete  upon  the  stony  grownd  : 
And  comming  to  the  place,  where  all  in  gore 
And  cruddy  blood  enwallowed  they  fownd 
The  lucklesse  Marinell  lying  in  deadly  swownd, 

His  mother  swowned  thrise,  and  the  third  time 
Could  scarce  recovered  bee  out  of  her  paine  : 
Had  she  not  beene  devoide  of  mortall  slime, 
Shee  should  not  then  have  bene  relyv'd  againe ; 
But,  soone  as  life  recovered  had  the  raine, 
Shee  made  so  piteous  mone  and  deare  wayment, 
That  the  hard  rocks  could  scarse  from  tears  refraine ; 
And  all  her  sister  Nymphes  with  one  consent 
Supplide  her  sobbing  breaches  with  sad  complement. 


"  Deare  image  of  my  selfe,"  (she  sayd)  "  that  is 
The  wretched  sonne  of  wretched  mother  borne, 
Is  this  thine  high  advauncement  ?    O !  is  this 
Th'  immortall  name,  with  which  thee,  yet  unborne, 
Thy  Grandsire  Nereus  promist  to  adorne  ? 
Now  lyest  thou  of  life  and  honor  refte  ; 
Now  lyest  thou  a  lumpe  of  earth  forlorne  ; 
Ne  of  thy  late  life  memory  is  lefte, 
Ne  can  thy  irrevocable  desteny  bee  wefte. 

"  Fond  Proteus,  father  of  false  prophecis ! 
And  they  more  fond  that  credit  to  thee  give ! 
Not  this  the  worke  of  womans  hand  ywis, 
That  so  deepe  wound  through  these  deare  members  drive. 
I  feared  love ;  but  they  that  love  doe  live, 
But  they  that  dye  doe  nether  love  nor  hate : 
Nath'lesse  to  thee  thy  folly  I  forgive ; 
And  to  my  selfe,  and  to  accursed  fate, 
The  guilt  I  doe  ascribe  :  deare  wisedom  bought  too  late ! 

"  O  !  what  availes  it  of  immortall  seed 
To  beene  ybredd  and  never  borne  to  dye  ? 
Farre  better  I  it  deeme  to  die  with  speed 
Then  waste  in  woe  and  waylfull  miserye : 
Who  dyes,  the  utmost  dolor  doth  abye ; 
But  who  that  lives  is  lefte  to  waile  his  losse  : 
So  life  is  losse,  and  death  felicity : 
Sad  life  worse  then  glad  death ;  and  greater  crosse 
To  see  frends  grave,  then  dead  the  grave  self  to  engrosse. 





Book  III. 
Canto  IV. 

Book  III. 
Canto  IV. 

"  But  if  the  heavens  did  his  dayes  envie, 
And  my  short  blis  maligne,  yet  mote  they  well 
Thus  much  afford  me,  ere  that  he  did  die, 
That  the  dim  eies  of  my  deare  Marinell 
I  mote  have  closed,  and  him  bed  farewell, 
Sith  other  offices  for  mother  meet 

They  would  nor  graunt  

Yett,  maulgre  them,  farewell,  my  sweetest  sweet ! 
Farewell,  my  sweetest  sonne,  sith  we  no  more  shall  meet ! " 

Thus  when  they  all  had  sorowed  their  fill, 
They  softly  gan  to  search  his  griesly  wownd  : 
And,  that  they  might  him  handle  more  at  will, 
They  him  disarmd ;  and,  spredding  on  the  grownd 
Their  watchet  mantles  frindgd  with  silver  rownd, 
They  softly  wipt  away  the  gelly  blood 
From  th'orifice ;  which  having  well  upbownd, 
They  pourd  in  soveraine  balme  and  Neclar  good, 
Good  both  for  erthly  med'cine  and  for  hevenly  food. 

Tho  when  the  lilly  handed  Liagore 
(This  Liagore  whilome  had  learned  skill 
In  leaches  craft,  by  great  Apolloes  lore, 
Sith  her  whilome  upon  high  Pindus  hill 
He  loved,  and  at  last  her  wombe  did  fill 
With  hevenly  seed,  whereof  wise  Paeon  sprong) 
Did  feele  his  pulse,  she  knew  there  staied  still 
Some  litle  life  his  feeble  sprites  emong ; 
Which  to  his  mother  told,  despeire  she  from  her  flong. 


Tho,  up  him  taking  in  their  tender  hands, 
They  easely  unto  her  charett  beare  : 
Her  teme  at  her  commaundement  quiet  stands, 
Whiles  they  the  corse  into  her  wagon  reare, 
And  strowe  with  flowres  the  lamentable  beare. 
Then  all  the  rest  into  their  coches  clim, 
And  through  the  brackish  waves  their  passage  sheare ; 
Upon  great  Neptunes  necke  they  softly  swim, 
And  to  her  watry  chamber  swiftly  carry  him. 

Deepe  in  the  bottome  of  the  sea  her  bowre 
Is  built  of  hollow  billowes  heaped  hye, 
Like  to  thicke  clouds  that  threat  a  stormy  showre, 
And  vauted  all  within,  like  to  the  Skye, 
In  which  the  Gods  doe  dwell  eternally ; 
There  they  him  laide  in  easy  couch  well  dight, 
And  sent  in  haste  for  Tryphon,  to  apply 
Salves  to  his  wounds,  and  medicines  of  might; 
For  Tryphon  of  sea  gods  the  soveraine  leach  is  hight. 

The  whiles  the  Nymphes  sit  all  about  him  rownd, 
Lamenting  his  mishap  and  heavy  plight ; 
And  ofte  his  mother,  vewing  his  wide  wownd, 
Cursed  the  hand  that  did  so  deadly  smight 
Her  dearest  Sonne,  her  dearest  harts  delight : 
But  none  of  all  those  curses  overtooke 
The  warlike  Maid,  th'ensample  of  that  might; 
But  fairely  well  shee  thryv'd,  and  well  did  brooke 
Her  noble  deeds,  ne  her  right  course  for  ought  forsooke. 

623  4 




Book  III. 
Canto  IV. 

Yet  did  false  Archimage  her  still  pursew, 
To  bring  to  passe  his  mischievous  intent, 
Now  that  he  had  her  singled  from  the  crew 
Of  courteous  knights,  the  Prince  and  Faery  gent, 
Whom  late  in  chace  of  beauty  excellent 
Shee  lefte,  pursewing  that  same  foster  strong, 
Of  whose  fowle  outrage  they  impatient, 
And  full  of  firy  zele,  him  followed  long, 
To  reskew  her  from  shame,  and  to  revenge  her  wrong. 

Through  thick  and  thin,  through  mountains  and  through  playns, 
Those  two  great  champions  did  attonce  pursew 
The  fearefull  damzell  with  incessant  payns ; 
Who  from  them  fled,  as  light-foot  hare  from  vew 
Of  hunter  swifte  and  sent  of  howndes  trew. 
At  last  they  came  unto  a  double  way ; 
Where,  doubtfull  which  to  take,  her  to  reskew, 
Themselves  they  did  dispart,  each  to  assay 
Whether  more  happy  were  to  win  so  goodly  pray. 

But  Timias,  the  Princes  gentle  Squyre, 
That  Ladies  love  unto  his  Lord  forlent, 
And  with  proud  envy  and  indignant  yre 
After  that  wicked  foster  fiercely  went : 
So  beene  they  three  three  sondry  wayes  ybent ; 
But  fayrest  fortune  to  the  Prince  befell, 
Whose  chaunce  it  was,  that  soone  he  did  repent, 
To  take  that  way  in  which  that  Damozell 
Was  fledd  afore,  affraid  of  him  as  feend  of  hell. 


At  last  of  her  far  off  he  gained  vew. 
Then  gan  he  freshly  pricke  his  fomy  steed, 
And  ever  as  he  nigher  to  her  drew, 
So  evermore  he  did  increase  his  speed, 
And  of  each  turning  still  kept  wary  heed : 
Alowd  to  her  he  oftentimes  did  call, 
To  doe  away  vaine  doubt  and  needlesse  dreed : 
Full  myld  to  her  he  spake,  and  oft  let  fall 
Many  meeke  wordes  to  stay  and  comfort  her  withall. 

But  nothing  might  relent  her  hasty  flight, 
So  deepe  the  deadly  feare  of  that  foule  swaine 
Was  earst  impressed  in  her  gentle  spright. 
Like  as  a  fearefull  Dove,  which  through  the  raine 
Of  the  wide  ayre  her  way  does  cut  amaine, 
Having  farre  off  espyde  a  Tassell  gent, 
Which  after  her  his  nimble  winges  doth  straine, 
Doubleth  her  hast  for  feare  to  bee  for-hent, 
And  with  her  pineons  cleaves  the  liquid  firmament. 

With  no  lesse  hast,  and  eke  with  no  lesse  dreed, 
That  fearefull  Ladie  fledd  from  him,  that  ment 
To  her  no  evill  thought  nor  evill  deed ; 
Yet  former  feare  of  being  fowly  shent 
Carried  her  forward  with  her  first  intent : 
And  though,  oft  looking  backward,  well  she  vewde 
Her  selfe  freed  from  that  foster  insolent, 
And  that  it  was  a  knight  which  now  her  sewde, 
Yet  she  no  lesse  the  knight  feard  then  that  villein  rude. 





Book  III. 
Canto  IV. 

His  uncouth  shield  and  straunge  armes  her  dismayd, 
Whose  like  in  Faery  lond  were  seldom  seene, 
That  fast  she  from  him  fledd,  no  lesse  afrayd 
Then  of  wilde  beastes  if  she  had  chased  beene  ; 
Yet  he  her  followd  still  with  corage  keene 
So  long,  that  now  the  golden  Hesperus 
Was  mounted  high  in  top  of  heaven  sheene, 
And  warnd  his  other  brethren  joyeous 
To  light  their  blessed  lamps  in  Joves  eternall  hous. 

All  suddeinly  dim  wox  the  dampish  ayre, 
And  griesly  shadowes  covered  heaven  bright, 
That  now  with  thousand  starres  was  decked  fayre : 
Which  when  the  Prince  beheld,  a  lothfull  sight, 
And  that  perforce,  for  want  of  lenger  light, 
He  mote  surceasse  his  suit,  and  lose  the  hope 
Of  his  long  labour,  he  gan  fowly  wyte 
His  wicked  fortune  that  had  turnd  aslope, 
And  cursed  night  that  reft  from  him  so  goodly  scope. 

Tho,  when  her  waves  he  could  no  more  descry, 
But  to  and  fro  at  disaventure  strayd ; 
Like  as  a  ship,  whose  Lodestar  suddeinly 
Covered  with  cloudes  her  Pilott  hath  dismayd ; 
His  wearisome  pursuit  perforce  he  stayd, 
And  from  his  loftie  steed  dismounting  low 
Did  let  him  forage.    Downe  himselfe  he  layd 
Upon  the  grassy  ground  to  sleepe  a  throw : 
The  cold  earth  was  his  couch,  the  hard  Steele  his  pillow. 


But  gentle  Sleepe  envyde  him  any  rest : 
In  stead  thereof  sad  sorow  and  disdaine 
Of  his  hard  hap  did  vexe  his  noble  brest, 
And  thousand  Fancies  bett  his  ydle  brayne 
With  their  light  wings,  the  sights  of  semblants  vaine. 
Oft  did  he  wish  that  Lady  faire  mote  bee 
His  Faery  Queene,  for  whom  he  did  complaine, 
Or  that  his  Faery  Queene  were  such  as  shee  ; 
And  ever  hasty  Night  be  blamed  bitterlie. 

"  Night  ■  thou  foule  Mother  of  annoyaunce  sad, 
Sister  of  heavie  death,  and  nourse  of  woe, 
Which  wast  begot  in  heaven,  but  for  thy  bad 
And  brutish  shape  thrust  downe  to  hell  below, 
Where,  by  the  grim  floud  of  Cocytus  slow, 
Thy  dwelling  is  in  Herebus  black  hous, 
(Black  Herebus,  thy  husband,  is  the  foe 
Of  all  the  Gods,)  where  thou  ungratious 
Halfe  of  thy  dayes  doest  lead  in  horrour  hideous. 

"  What  had  th'eternall  Maker  need  of  thee 
The  world  in  his  continuall  course  to  keepe, 
That  doest  all  thinges  deface,  ne  lettest  see 
The  beautie  of  his  worke  ?    Indeed,  in  sleepe 
The  slouthfull  body  that  doth  love  to  steepe 
His  lustlesse  limbes,  and  drowne  his  baser  mind, 
Doth  praise  thee  oft,  and  oft  from  Stygian  deepe 
Calles  thee  his  goddesse,  in  his  errour  blind, 
nd  great  Dame  Natures  handmaide  chearing' every  kind. 


"  But  well  I  wote,  that  to  an  heavy  hart 
Thou  art  the  roote  and  nourse  of  bitter  cares, 
Breeder  of  new,  renewer  of  old  smarts : 
Instead  of  rest  thou  lendest  rayling  teares ; 
Instead  of  sleepe  thou  sendest  troublous  feares 
And  dreadfull  visions,  in  the  which  alive 
The  dreary  image  of  sad  death  appeares  : 
So  from  the  wearie  spirit  thou  doest  drive 
Desired  rest,  and  men  of  happinesse  deprive. 

"  Under  thy  mantle  black  there  hidden  lye 
Light-shonning  thefte,  and  traiterous  intent, 
Abhorred  bloodshed,  and  vile  felony, 
Shamefull  deceipt,  and  daunger  imminent, 
Fowle  horror,  and  eke  hellish  dreriment : 
All  these,  I  wote,  in  thy  protection  bee, 
And  light  doe  shonne  for  feare  of  being  shent ; 
For  light  ylike  is  loth'd  of  them  and  thee ; 
And  all  that  lewdnesse  love  doe  hate  the  light  to  see. 

"  For  day  discovers  all  dishonest  wayes, 
And  sheweth  each  thing  as  it  is  in  deed  : 
The  prayses  of  high  God  he  faire  displayes, 
And  his  large  bountie  rightly  doth  areed  : 
Dayes  dearest  children  be  the  blessed  seed 
Which  darknesse  shall  subdue  and  heaven  win : 
Truth  is  his  daughter ;  he  her  first  did  breed 
Most  sacred  virgin  without  spot  of  sinne. 
Our  life  is  day,  but  death  with  darknesse  doth  begin. 





Book  III. 
Canto  IV. 

"  O  !  when  will  day  then  turne  to  me  againe,  THE 
And  bring  with  him  his  long  expeded  light  ?  OUEENE 
O  Titan  !  hast  to  reare  thy  joyous  waine  ;  gook  m 

Speed  thee  to  spred  abroad  thy  beames  bright,  Canto  IV. 

And  chace  away  this  too  long  lingring  night; 
Chace  her  away,  from  whence  she  came,  to  hell : 
She,  she  it  is,  that  hath  me  done  despight : 
There  let  her  with  the  damned  spirits  dwell, 
And  yield  her  rowme  to  day  that  can  it  governe  well." 

Thus  did  the  Prince  that  wearie  night  outweare 
In  restlesse  anguish  and  unquiet  paine ; 
And  earely,  ere  the  morrow  did  upreare 
His  deawy  head  out  of  the  Ocean  maine, 
He  up  arose,  as  halfe  in  great  disdaine, 
And  clombe  unto  his  steed.    So  forth  he  went 
With  heavy  look  and  lumpish  pace,  that  plaine 
In  him  bewraid  great  grudge  and  maltalent : 
His  steed  eke  seemd  t'apply  his  steps  to  his  intent. 


1 1.  jj 


ONDER  it  is  to  see,  in  diverse  minds, 
How  diversly  love  doth  his  pageants  play, 
And  shewes  his  powre  in  variable  kinds : 
The  baser  wit,  whose  idle  thoughts  alway 
Are  wont  to  cleave  unto  the  lowly  clay, 
It  stirreth  up  to  sensuall  desire, 
And  in  lewd  slouth  to  wast  his  carelesse  day ; 
But  in  brave  sprite  it  kindles  goodly  fire, 
That  to  all  high  desert  and  honour  doth  aspire. 

Ne  suffereth  it  uncomely  idlenesse 
In  his  free  thought  to  build  her  sluggish  nest; 
Ne  suffereth  it  thought  of  ungentlenesse 
Ever  to  creepe  into  his  noble  brest ; 
But  to  the  highest  and  the  worthiest 
Lifteth  it  up  that  els  would  lowly  fall  : 
It  lettes  not  fall,  it  lettes  it  not  to  rest ; 
It  lettes  not  scarse  this  Prince  to  breath  at  all, 
But  to  his  first  poursuit  him  forward  still  doth  call. 






Book  HI. 
Canto  V. 

Who  long  time  wandred  through  the  forest  wyde 
To  finde  some  issue  thence,  till  that  at  last 
He  met  a  Dwarfe,  that  seemed  terrifyde 
With  some  late  perill  which  he  hardly  past, 
Or  other  accident,  which  him  aghast ; 
Of  whom  he  asked,  whence  he  lately  came, 
And  whither  now  he  travelled  so  fast : 
For  sore  he  swat,  and,  running  through  that  same 
Thicke  forest,  was  bescracht,  and  both  his  feet  nigh  lame. 

Panting  for  breath,  and  almost  out  of  hart,  , 
The  Dwarfe  him  answerd ;  "  Sir,  ill  mote  I  stay 
To  tell  the  same :  I  lately  did  depart 
From  Faery  court,  where  I  have  many  a  day 
Served  a  gentle  Lady  of  great  sway 
And  high  accompt  through  out  all  Elfin  land, 
Who  lately  left  the  same,  and  tooke  this  way. 
Her  now  I  seeke  ;  and  if  ye  understand 
Which  way  she  fared  hath,  good  Sir,  tell  out  of  hand." 

"  What  mister  wight,"  (saide  he)  "  and  how  arayd  ?  " 
"  Royally  clad"  (quoth  he)  "in  cloth  of  gold, 
As  meetest  may  beseeme  a  noble  mayd : 
Her  faire  lockes  in  rich  circlet  be  enrold, 
A  fayrer  wight  did  never  Sunne  behold  ? 
And  on  a  Palfrey  rydes  more  white  then  snow, 
Yet  she  her  selfe  is  whiter  manifold. 
The  surest  signe,  whereby  ye  may  her  know, 
Is  that  she  is  the  fairest  wight  alive,  I  trow." 


"  Now  certes,  swaine,"  (saide  he)  "  such  one,  I  weene, 
Fast  flying  through  this  forest  from  her  fo, 
A  foule  ill-favoured  foster,  I  have  seene  : 
Her  selfe,  well  as  I  might,  I  reskewd  tho, 
But  could  not  stay,  so  fast  she  did  foregoe, 
Carried  away  with  wings  of  speedy  feare." 
"  Ah,  dearest  God  ! "  (quoth  he)  "  that  is  great  woe, 
And  wondrous  ruth  to  all  that  shall  it  heare  : 
But  can  ye  read,  Sir,  how  I  may  her  finde,  or  where  ? " 

Book  III. 
Canto  V. 

"  Perdy,  me  lever  were  to  weeten  that," 
(Said  he)  "  then  ransome  of  the  richest  knight, 
Or  all  the  good  that  ever  yet  I  gat : 
But  froward  fortune,  and  too  forward  Night, 
Such  happinesse  did,  maulgre,  to  me  spight, 
And  fro  me  reft  both  life  and  light  attone. 
But,  Dwarfe,  aread  what  is  that  Lady  bright 
That  through  this  forrest  wandreth  thus  alone  ? 
For  of  her  errour  straunge  I  have  great  ruth  and  mone." 

"  That  Lady  is,"  (quoth  he)  "  where  so  she  bee, 
The  bountiest  virgin  and  most  debonaire 
That  ever  living  eye,  I  weene,  did  see. 
Lives  none  this  day  that  may  with  her  compare  . 
In  stedfast  chastitie  and  vertue  rare, 
The  goodly  ornaments  of  beautie  bright ; 
And  is  ycleped  Florimell  the  faire, 
Faire  Florimell  belov'd  of  many  a  knight, 
,  Yet  she  loves  none  but  one,  that  Marinell  is  hight. 


Book  III. 
Canto  V. 

"  A  Sea-nymphes  Sonne,  that  Marinell  is  hight, 
Of  my  deare  Dame  is  loved  dearely  well ; 
In  other  none,  but  him,  she  sets  delight, 
All  her  delight  is  set  on  Marinell, 
But  he  sets  nought  at  all  by  Florimell ; 
For  Ladies  love  his  mother  long  ygoe 
Did  him,  they  say,  forwarne  through  sacred  spell 
But  fame  now  flies,  that  of  a  forreine  foe 
He  is  yslaine,  which  is  the  ground  of  all  our  woe. 

"  Five  dayes  there  be  since  he  (they  say)  was  slaine, 
And  foure  since  Florimell  the  Court  forwent, 
And  vowed  never  to  returne  againe, 
Till  him  alive  or  dead  she  did  invent. 
Therefore,  faire  Sir,  for  love  of  knighthood  gent, 
And  honour  of  trew  Ladies,  if  ye  may 
By  your'good  counsell,  or  bold  hardiment, 
Or  succour  her,  or  me  direct  the  way, 
Do  one  or  other  good,  I  you  most  humbly  pray. 

"  So  may  ye  gaine  to  you  full  great  renowme 
Of  all  good  Ladies  through  the  worlde  so  wide, 
And  haply  in  her  hart  find  highest  rowme 
Of  whom  ye  seeke  to  be  most  magnifide  : 
At  least  eternall  meede  shall  you  abide." 
To  whom  the  Prince :  "  Dwarfe,  comfort  to  thee  take, 
For,  till  thou  tidings  learne  what  her  betide, 
I  here  avow  thee  never  to  forsake. 
Ill  weares  he  armes,  that  nill  them  use  for  Ladies  sake." 


So  with  the  Dwarfe  he  backe  retourn'd  againe, 
To  seeke  his  Lady,  where  he  mote  her  find  ; 
But  by  the  way  he  greatly  gan  complaine 
The  want  of  his  good  Squire  late  lefte  behind, 
For  whom  he  wondrous  pensive  grew  in  mind, 
For  doubt  of  daunger  which  mote  him  betide  ; 
For  him  he  loved  above  all  mankinde, 
Having  him  trew  and  faithfull  ever  tride, 
And  bold,  as  ever  Squire  that  waited  by  knights  side  : 

Who  all  this  while  full  hardly  was  assayd 
Of  deadly  daunger,  which  to  him  betid ; 
For,  whiles  his  Lord  pursewd  that  noble  Mayd, 
After  that  foster  fowle  he  fiercely  rid 
To  bene  avenged  of  the  shame  he  did 
To  that  faire  Damzell :  Him  he  chaced  long 
Through  the  thicke  woods,  wherein  he  would  have  hid 
His  shamefull  head  from  his  avengement  strong, 
And  oft  him  threatned  death  for  his  outrageous  wrong. 

Nathlesse  the  villein  sped  himselfe  so  well, 
Whether  through  swiftnesse  of  his  speedy  beast, 
Or  knowledge  of  those  woods  where  he  did  dwell, 
That  shortly  he  from  daunger  was  releast, 
And  out  of  sight  escaped  at  the  least : 
Yet  not  escaped  from  the  dew  reward 
Of  his  bad  deedes,  which  daily  he  increast, 
Ne  ceased  not,  till  him  oppressed  hard 
The  heavy  plague  that  for  such  leachours  is  prepard. 





Book  III. 
Canto  V. 

Book  III. 
Canto  V. 

For  soone  as  he  was  vanisht  out  of  sight, 
His  coward  courage  gan  emboldned  bee, 
And  cast  t'avenge  him  of  that  fowle  despight 
Which  he  had  borne  of  his  bold  enimee  : 
Tho  to  his  brethren  came,  for  they  were  three 
Ungratious  children  of  one  gracelesse  sire, 
And  unto  them  complained  how  that  he 
Had  used  beene  of  that  foolehardy  Squire  : 
So  them  with  bitter  words  he  stird  to  bloody  ire. 

Forthwith  themselves  with  their  sad  instruments 
Of  spoyle  and  murder  they  gan  arme  bylive, 
And  with  him  forth  into  the  forrest  went 
To  wreake  the  wrath,  which  he  did  earst  revive 
In  their  sterne  brests,  on  him  which  late  did  drive 
Their  brother  to  reproch  and  shamefull  flight ; 
For  they  had  vow'd  that  never  he  ali^e 
Out  of  that  forest  should  escape  their  might ; 
Vile  rancour  their  rude  harts  had  fild  with  such  despight. 

Within  that  wood  there  was  a  covert  glade, 
Foreby  a  narrow  foord,  to  them  well  knowne, 
Through  which  it  was  uneath  for  wight  to  wade ; 
And  now  by  fortune  it  was  overflowne. 
By  that  same  way  they  knew  that  Squyre  unknowne 
Mote  algates  passe :  forthy  themselves  they  set 
There  in  await,  with  thicke  woods  overgrowne, 
And  all  the  while  their  malice  they  did  whet 
With  cruell  threats  his  passage  through  the  ford  to  let. 


It  fortuned,  as  they  devised  had  : 
The  gentle  Squire  came  ryding  that  same  way, 
Unweeting  of  their  wile  and  treason  bad, 
And  through  the  ford  to  passen  did  assay ; 
But  that  fierce  foster,  which  late  fled  away, 
Stoutly  foorth  stepping  on  the  further  shore, 
Him  boldly  bad  his  passage  there  to  stay, 
Till  he  had  made  amends,  and  full  restore 
For  all  the  damage  which  he  had  him  doen  afore. 

With  that  at  him  a  quiv'ring  dart  he  threw, 
With  so  fell  force,  and  villeinous  despite, 
That  through  his  haberjeon  the  forkehead  flew, 
And  through  the  linked  mayles  empierced  quite, 
But  had  no  powre  in  his  soft  flesh  to  bite. 
That  stroke  the  hardy  Squire  did  sore  displease, 
But  more  that  him  he  could  not  come  to  smite ; 
For  by  no  meanes  the  high  banke  he  could  sease, 
But  labour'd  long  in  that  deepe  ford  with  vaine  disease. 

And  still  the  foster  with  his  long  bore-speare 
Him  kept  from  landing  at  his  wished  will. 
Anone  one  sent  out  of  the  thicket  neare 
A  cruell  shaft,  headed  with  deadly  ill, 
And  fethered  with  an  unlucky  quill : 
The  wicked  Steele  stayd  not  till  it  did  light 
In  his  left  thigh,  and  deepely  did  it  thrill : 
Exceeding  griefe  that  wound  in  him  empight, 
But  more  that  with  his  foes  he  could  not  come  to  fight. 





Book  III. 
Canto  V. 

At  last,  through  wrath  and  vengeaunce  making  way, 
He  on  the  bancke  arryvd  with  mickle  payne, 
Where  the  third  brother  him  did  sore  assay, 
And  drove  at  him  with  all  his  might  and  mayne 
A  forest-bill,  which  both  his  hands  did  strayne ; 
But  warily  he  did  avoide  the  blow, 
And  with  his  speare  requited  him  againe, 
That  both  his  sides  were  thrilled  with  the  throw, 
And  a  large  streame  of  blood  out  of  the  wound  did  flow. 

H  e,  tombling  downe,  with  gnashing  teeth  did  bite 
The  bitter  earth,  and  bad  to  lett  him  in 
Into  the  balefull  house  of  endlesse  night, 
Where  wicked  ghosts  doe  waile  their  former  sin. 
Tho  gan  the  battaile  freshly  to  begin ; 
For  nathemore  for  that  spectacle  bad 
Did  th'other  two  their  cruell  vengeaunce  blin, 
But  both  attonce  on  both  sides  him  bestad, 
And  load  upon  him  layd  his  life  for  to  have  had. 

Tho  when  that  villayn  he  aviz'd,  which  late 
Affrighted  had  the  fairest  Florimell, 
Full  of  fiers  fury  and  indignant  hate 
To  him  he  turned,  and  with  rigor  fell 
Smote  him  so  rudely  on  the  Pannikell, 
That  to  the  chin  he  clefte  his  head  in  twaine. 
Downe  on  the  ground  his  carkas  groveling  fell : 
His  sinfull  sowle  with  desperate  disdaine 
Out  of  her  fleshly  ferme  fled  to  the  place  of  paine. 


Book  III. 
Canto  V. 

That  seeing,  now  the  only  last  of  three 
Who  with  that  wicked  shafte  him  wounded  had, 
Trembling  with  horror,  as  that  did  foresee 
The  fearefull  end  of  his  avengement  sad, 
Through  which  he  follow  should  his  brethren  bad, 
His  bootelesse  bow  in  feeble  hand  upcaught, 
And  therewith  shott  an  arrow  at  the  lad ; 
Which,  fayntly  fluttering,  scarce  his  helmet  raught, 
And  glauncing  fel  to  ground,  but  him  annoyed  naught. 




Book  III. 
Canto  V. 

With  that  he  would  have  fled  into  the  wood ; 
But  Timias  him  lightly  overhent, 
Right  as  he  entring  was  into  the  flood, 
And  strooke  at  him  with  force  so  violent, 
That  headlesse  him  into  the  foord  he  sent : 
The  carcas  with  the  streame  was  carried  downe, 
But  th'  head  fell  backeward  on  the  Continent ; 
So  mischief  fel  upon  the  meaners  crowne. 
They  three  be  dead  with  shame,  the  Squire  lives  with  renowne 

He  lives,  but  takes  small  joy  of  his  renowne  ; 
"  For  of  that  cruell  wound  he  bled  so  sore, 
That  from  his  steed  he  fell  in  deadly  swowne  : 
Yet  still  the  blood  forth  gusht  in  so  great  store, 
That  he  lay  wallowd  all  in  his  owne  gore. 
Now  God  thee  keepe,  thou  gentlest  squire  alive, 
Els  shall  thy  loving  Lord  thee  see  no  more ; 
But  both  of  comfort  him  thou  shalt  deprive, 
And  eke  thy  selfe  of  honor  which  thou  didst  atchive. 



Book  III. 
Canto  V. 

Providence  hevenly  passeth  living  thought, 
And  doth  for  wretched  mens  reliefe  make  way ; 
For  loe !  great  grace  or  fortune  thither  brought 
Comfort  to  him  that  comfortlesse  now  lay. 
In  those  same  woods  ye  well  remember  may 
How  that  a  noble  hunteresse  did  wonne, 
Shee,  that  base  Braggadochio  did  affray, 
And  make  him  fast  out  of  the  forest  ronne ; 
Belphcebe  was  her  name,  as  faire  as  Phoebus  sunne. 

She  on  a  day,  as  shee  pursewd  the  chace 
Of  some  wilde  beast,  which  with  her  arrowes  keene 
She  wounded  had,  the  same  along  did  trace 
By  tracl:  of  blood,  which  she  had  freshly  seene 
To  have  besprinckled  all  the  grassy  greene : 
By  the  great  persue  which  she  there  perceav'd, 
Well  hoped  shee  the  beast  engor'd  had  beene, 
And  made  more  haste  the  life  to  have  bereav'd ; 
But  ah  !  her  expectation  greatly  was  deceav'd. 

Shortly  she  came  whereas  that  wofull  Squire, 
With  blood  deformed,  lay  in  deadly  swownd ; 
In  whose  faire  eyes,  like  lamps  of  quenched  fire, 
The  Christall  humor  stood  congealed  rownd ; 
His  locks,  like  faded  leaves  fallen  to  grownd, 
Knotted  with  blood  in  bounches  rudely  ran ; 
And  his  sweete  lips,  on  which  before  that  stownd 
The  bud  of  youth  to  blossome  faire  began, 
Spoild  of  their  rosy  red  were  woxen  pale  and  wan. 


Saw  never  living  eie  more  heavy  sight, 
That  could  have  made  a  rocke  of  stone  to  rew, 
Or  rive  in  twaine  :  which  when  that  Lady  bright, 
Besides  all  hope,  with  melting  eies  did  vew, 
All  suddeinly  abasht  shee  chaunged  hew, 
And  with  sterne  horror  backward  gan  to  start ; 
But  when  shee  better  him  beheld  shee  grew 
Full  of  soft  passion  and  unwonted  smart : 
The  point  of  pitty  perced  through  her  tender  hart. 

Meekely  shee  bowed  downe,  to  weete  if  life 
Yett  in  his  frosen  members  did  remaine ; 
And,  feeling  by  his  pulses  beating  rife 
That  the  weake  sowle  her  seat  did  yett  retaine, 
She  cast  to  comfort  him  with  busie  paine. 
His  double  folded  necke  she  reard  upright, 
And  rubd  his  temples  and  each  trembling  vaine  ; 
His  mayled  haberjeon  she  did  undight, 
And  from  his  head  his  heavy  burganet  did  light. 

Into  the  woods  thenceforth  in  haste  shee  went, 
To  seeke  for  hearbes  that  mote  him  remedy ; 
For  shee  of  herbes  had  great  intendiment, 
Taught  of  the  Nymphe  which  from  her  infancy 
Her  nourced  had  in  trew  Nobility  : 
There,  whether  yt  divine  Tobacco  were, 
Or  Panachaa,  or  Polygony, 

Shee  fownd,  and  brought  it  to  her  patient  deare, 
Who  al  this  while  lay  bleding  out  his  hart-blood  neare. 





Book  III. 
Canto  V. 

The  soveraine  weede  betwixt  two  marbles  plaine 
Shee  pownded  small,  and  did  in  peeces  bruze  ; 
And  then  atweene  her  lilly  handes  twaine 
Into  his  wound  the  juice  thereof  did  scruze; 
And  round  about,  as  she  could  well  it  uze, 
The  flesh  therewith  shee  suppled  and  did  steepe, 
T'abate  all  spasme,  and  soke  the  swelling  bruze ; 
And,  after  having  searcht  the  intuse  deepe, 
She  with  her  scarf  did  bind  the  wound  from  cold  to  keepe. 

By  this  he  had  sweet  life  recur'd  agayne, 
And,  groning  inly  deepe,  at  last  his  eies, 
His  watry  eies  drizling  like  deawy  rayne, 
He  up  gan  lifte  toward  the  azure  skies, 
From  whence  descend  all  hopelesse  remedies : 
Therewith  he  sigh'd ;  and,  turning  him  aside, 
The  goodly  Maide,  ful  of  divinities 
And  gifts  of  heavenly  grace,  he  by  him  spide, 
Her  bow  and  gilden  quiver  lying  him  beside. 

"  Mercy,  deare  Lord !  "  (said  he)  "  what  grace  in  this 
That  thou  hast  shewed  to  me  sinfull  wight, 
To  send  thine  Angell  from  her  bowre  of  blis 
To  comfort  me  in  my  distressed  plight. 
Angell,  or  Goddesse  doe  I  call  thee  right  ? 
What  service  may  I  doe  unto  thee  meete, 
That  hast  from  darkenes  me  returnd  to  light, 
And  with  thy  hevenly  salves  and  med'cines  sweete 
Hast  drest  my  sinfull  wounds  ?    I  kisse  thy  blessed  feete." 


Book  III. 
Canto  V. 

Thereat  she  blushing  said  ;  "  Ah !  gentle  Squire, 
Nor  Goddesse  I,  nor  Angell ;  but  the  Mayd 
And  daughter  of  a  woody  Nymphe,  desire 
No  service  but  thy  safety  and  ayd ; 
Which  if  thou  gaine,  I  shal  be  well  apayd. 
Wee  mortall  wights,  whose  lives  and  fortunes  bee 
To  commun  accidents  stil  open  layd, 
Are  bownd  with  commun  bond  of  frai'ltee, 
To  succor  wretched  wights  who  we  captived  see." 

By  this  her  Damzells,  which  the  former  chace 
Had  undertaken  after  her,  arryv'd, 
As  did  Belphoebe,  in  the  bloody  place, 
And  thereby  deemd  the  beast  had  bene  depriv'd 
Of  life,  whom  late  their  ladies  arrow  ryv'd : 
Forthy  the  bloody  tract  they  followd  fast, 
And  every  one  to  ronne  the  swiftest  stryv'd  ; 
But  two  of  them  the  rest  far  overpast, 
And  where  their  Lady  was  arrived  at  the  last. 

Where  when  they  saw  that  goodly  boy  with  blood 
Defowled,  and  their  Lady  dresse  his  wownd, 
They  wondred  much ;  and  shortly  understood 
How  him  in  deadly  case  theyr  Lady  fownd, 
And  reskewed  out  of  the  heavy  stownd. 
Eftsoones  his  warlike  courser,  which  was  strayd 
Farre  in  the  woodes  whiles  that  he  lay  in  swownd, 
She  made  those  Damzels  search ;  which  being  stayd 
They  did  him  set  theron,  and  forth  with  them  convayd. 


Book  III. 
Canto  V. 




Book  III. 
Canto  V. 

Into  that  forest  farre  they  thence  him  led, 
Where  was  their  dwelling,  in  a  pleasant  glade 
With  mountaines  rownd  about  environed, 
And  mightie  woodes  which  did  the  valley  shade 
And  like  a  stately  Theatre  it  made, 
Spreading  it  selfe  into  a  spatious  plaine : 
And  in  the  midst  a  little  river  plaide 
Emongst  the  pumy  stones,  which  seemd  to  plaine 
With  gentle  murmure  that  his  cours  they  did  restraine. 

Beside  the  same  a  dainty  place  there  lay, 
Planted  with  mirtle  trees  and  laurells  greene, 
In  which  the  birds  song  many  a  lovely  lay 
Of  Gods  high  praise,  and  of  their  loves  sweet  teene, 
As  it  an  earthly  Paradize  had  beene  : 
In  whose  enclosed  shadow  there  was  pight 
A-faire  Pavilion,  scarcely  to  bee  seene, 
The  which  was  al  within  most  richly  dight, 
That  greatest  Princes  liking  it  mote  well  delight. 

Thither  they  brought  that  wounded  Squyre,  and  layd 
In  easie  couch  his  feeble  limbes  to  rest. 
He  rested  him  awhile ;  and  then  the  Mayd 
His  readie  wound  with  better  salves  new  drest : 
Daily  she  dressed  him,  and  did  the  best 
His  grievous  hurt  to  guarish,  that  she  might ; 
That  shortly  she  his  dolour  hath  redrest, 
And  his  foule  sore  reduced  to  faire  plight : 
It  she  reduced,  but  himselfe  destroyed  quight. 


O  foolish  physick,  and  unfruitfull  paine, 
That  heales  up  one,  and  makes  another  wound ! 
She  his  hurt  thigh  to  him  recurd  againe, 
But  hurt  his  hart,  the  which  before  was  sound, 
Through  an  unwary  dart,  which  did  rebownd 
From  her  faire  eyes  and  gratious  countenaunce. 
What  bootes  it  him  from  death  to  be  unbownd, 
To  be  captived  in  endlesse  duraunce 
Of  sorrow  and  despeyre  without  aleggeaunce  ! 




Book  III. 
Canto  V. 

Still  as  his  wound  did  gather,  and  grow  hole, 
So  still  his  hart  woxe  sore,  and  health  decayd  : 
Madnesse  to  save  a  part,  and  lose  the  whole ! 
Still  whenas  he  beheld  the  heavenly  Mayd, 
Whiles  dayly  playsters  to  his  wownd  she  layd, 
So  still  his  Malady  the  more  increast, 
The  whiles  her  matchlesse  beautie  him  dismayd. 
Ah  God !  what  other  could  he  do  at  least, 
But  love  so  fayre  a  Lady  that  his  life  releast  ? 

Long  while  he  strove  in  his  corageous  brest 
With  reason  dew  the  passion  to  subdew, 
And  love  for  to  dislodge  out  of  his  nest : 
Still  when  her  excellencies  he  did  vew, 
Her  soveraine  bountie  and  celestiall  hew, 
The  same  to  love  he  strongly  was  constraynd  ; 
But  when  his  meane  estate  he  did  revew, 
He  from  such  hardy  boldnesse  was  restraynd, 
And  of  his  lucklesse  lott  and  cruell  love  thus  playnd 





Book  III. 
Canto  V. 

"  Unthankfull  wretch,"  (said  he)  "  is  this  the  meed, 
With  which  her  soverain  mercy  thou  doest  quight  ? 
Thy  life  she  saved  by  her  gratious  deed ; 
But  thou  doest  weene  with  villeinous  despight 
To  blott  her  honour,  and  her  heavenly  light. 
Dye  rather,  dye,  then  so  disloyally 
Deeme  of  her  high  desert,  or  seeme  so  light : 
Fayre  death  it  is,  to  shonne  more  shame,  to  dy : 
Dye  rather,  dy,  then  ever  love  disloyally. 

"  But  if  to  love  disloyalty  it  bee, 
Shall  I  then  hate  her  that  from  deathes  dore 
Me  brought  ?  ah,  farre  be  such  reproch  fro  mee ! 
What  can  I  lesse  doe  then  her  love  therefore, 
Sith  I  her  dew  reward  cannot  restore  ? 
Dye  rather,  dye,  and  dying  doe  her  serve ; 
Dying  her  serve,  and  living  her  adore ; 
Thy  life  she  gave,  thy  life  she  doth  deserve : 
Dye  rather,  dye,  then  ever  from  her  service  swerve. 

"  But,  foolish  boy,  what  bootes  thy  service  bace 
To  her  to  whom  the  hevens  doe  serve  and  sew  ? 
Thou,  a  meane  Squyre  of  meeke  and  lowly  place  ; 
She,  hevenly  borne  and  of  celestiall  hew. 
How  then  ?  of  all  love  taketh  equall  vew  ; 
And  doth  not  highest  God  vouchsafe  to  take 
The  love  and  service  of  the  basest  crew  ? 
If  she  will  not,  dye  meekly  for  her  sake : 
Dye  rather,  dye,  then  ever  so  faire  love  forsake ! " 


Thus  warreid  he  long  time  against  his  will ; 
Till  that  through  weaknesse  he  was  forst  at  last 
To  yield  himselfe  unto  the  mightie  ill, 
Which,  as  a  vidtour  proud,  gan  ransack  fast 
His  inward  partes,  and  all  his  entrayles  wast, 
That  neither  blood  in  face  nor  life  in  hart 
It  left,  but  both  did  quite  drye  up  and  blast ; 
As  percing  levin,  which  the  inner  part 
Of  every  thing  consumes,  and  calcineth  by  art. 

Which  seeing  fayre  Belphcebe  gan  to  feare, 
Least  that  his  wound  were  inly  well  not  heald, 
Or  that  the  wicked  Steele  empoysned  were  : 
Litle  shee  weend  that  love  he  close  conceald. 
Yet  still  he  wasted,  as  the  snow  congeald 
When  the  bright  sunne  his  beams  theron  doth  beat : 
Yet  never  he  his  hart  to  her  reveald ; 
But  rather  chose  to  dye  for  sorow  great, 
Then  with  dishonorable  termes  her  to  entreat. 

She,  gracious  Lady,  yet  no  paines  did  spare 
To  doe  him  ease,  or  doe  him  remedy. 
Many  Restoratives  of  vertues  rare, 
And  costly  Cordialles  she  did  apply, 
To  mitigate  his  stubborne  malady : 
But  that  sweet  Cordiall,  which  can  restore 
A  love-sick  hart,  she  did  to  him  envy ; 
To  him,  and  to  all  th'unworthy  world  forlore 
She  did  envy  that  soveraine  salve  in  secret  store. 

649  4  e 

Book  III. 
Canto  V. 




Book  III. 
Canto  V. 

That  daintie  Rose,  the  daughter  of  her  Morne, 
More  deare  then  life  she  tendered,  whose  flowre 
The  sirlond  of  her  honour  did  adorne : 


Ne  suffred  she  the  Middayes  scorching  powre, 
Ne  the  sharp  Northerne  wind  thereon  to  showre ; 
But  lapped  up  her  silken  leaves  most  chayre, 
When  so  the  froward  skye  began  to  lowre ; 
But,  soone  as  calmed  was  the  christall  ayre, 
She  did  it  fayre  dispred  and  let  to  florish  fayre. 

Eternall  God,  in  his  almightie  powre, 
To  make  ensample  of  his  heavenly  grace, 
In  Paradize  whylome  did  plant  this  flowre ; 
Whence  he  it  fetcht  out  of  her  native  place, 
And  did  in  stocke  of  earthly  flesh  enrace, 
That  mortall  men  her  glory  should  admyre. 
In  gentle  Ladies  breste  and  bounteous  race 
Of  woman  kind  it  fayrest  Flowre  doth  spyre, 
And  beareth  fruit  of  honour  and  all  chast  desyre. 

Fayre  ympes  of  beautie,  whose  bright  shining  beames 
Adorne  the  world  with  like  to  heavenly  light, 
And  to  your  willes  both  royalties  and  Reames 
Subdew,  through  conquest  of  your  wondrous  might, 
With  this  fayre  flowre  your  goodly  girlonds  dight 
Of  chastity  and  vertue  virginall, 
That  shall  embellish  more  your  beautie  bright, 
And  crowne  your  heades  with  heavenly  coronall, 
Such  as  the  Angels  weare  before  Gods  tribunall ! 


To  your  faire  selves  a  faire  ensample  frame 
Of  this  faire  virgin,  this  Belphebe  fayre  ; 
To  whom,  in  perfect  love  and  spotlesse  fame 
Of  chastitie,  none  living  may  compayre  : 
Ne  poysnous  Envy  justly  can  empayre 
The  prayse  of  her  fresh  flowring  Maydenhead ; 
Forthy  she  standeth  on  the  highest  stayre 
Of  th'  honorable  stage  of  womanhead, 
That  Ladies  all  may  follow  her  ensample  dead. 

In  so  great  prayse  of  stedfast  chastity 
Nathlesse  she  was  so  courteous  and  kynde, 
Tempred  with  grace  and  goodly  modesty, 
That  seemed  those  two  vertues  strove  to  fynd 
The  higher  place  in  her  Heroick  mynd  : 
So  striving  each  did  other  more  augment, 
And  both  encreast  the  prayse  of  woman  kynde, 
And  both  encreast  her  beautie  excellent  : 
So  all  did  make  in  her  a  perfect  complement. 

BOOK  •  111 

ELL  may  I  weene,  faire  Ladies,  all  this  while 
Ye  wonder  how  this  noble  Damozell 
So  great  perfections  did  in  her  compile, 
Sith  that  in  salvage  forests  she  did  dwell, 
So  farre  from  court  and  royall  Citadell, 
The  great  schoolmaistresse  of  all  courtesy : 
Seemeth  that  such  wilde  woodes  should  far  expell 
All  civile  usage  and  gentility, 
And  gentle  sprite  deforme  with  rude  rusticity. 

But  to  this  faire  Belphcebe  in  her  berth 
The  hevens  so  favorable  were  and  free 
Looking  with  myld  aspect  upon  the  earth 
In  th'  Horoscope  of  her  nativitee, 
That  all  the  gifts  of  grace  and  chastitee 
On  her  they  poured  forth  of  plenteous  home : 
Jove  laught  on  Venus  from  his  soverayne  see, 
And  Phoebus  with  faire  beames  did  her  adorne, 
And  all  the  Graces  rockt  her  cradle  being  borne. 





Book  III. 
Canto  VI. 

Her  berth  was  of  the  wombe  of  Morning  dew, 
And  her  conception  of  the  joyous  Prime  ; 
And  all  her  whole  creation  did  her  shew 
Pure  and  unspotted  from  all  loathly  crime 
That  is  ingenerate  in  fleshly  slime. 
So  was  this  virgin  borne,  so  was  she  bred ; 
So  was  she  trayned  up  from  time  to  time 
In  all  chaste  vertue  and  true  bounti-hed, 
Till  to  her  dew  perfection  she  were  ripened. 

Her  mother  was  the  faire  Chrysogonee, 
The  daughter  of  Amphisa,  who  by  race 
A  Faerie  was,  yborne  of  high  degree. 
She  bore  Belphcebe ;  she  bore  in  like  cace 
Fayre  Amoretta  in  the  second  place : 
These  two  were  twinnes,  and  twixt  them  two  did  share 
The  heritage  of  all  celestiall  grace  ; 
That  all  the  rest  it  seemd  they  robbed  bare 
Of  bounty,  and  of  beautie,  and  all  vertues  rare. 

It  were  a  goodly  storie  to  declare 
By  what  straunge  accident  faire  Chrysogone 
Conceiv'd  these  infants,  and  how  them  she  bare 
In  this  wilde  forrest  wandring  all  alone, 
After  she  had  nine  moneths  fulfild  and  gone  : 
For  not  as  other  wemens  commune  brood 
They  were  enwombed  in  the  sacred  throne 
Of  her  chaste  bodie  ;  nor  with  commune  food, 
As  other  wemens  babes,  they  sucked  vitall  blood : 


But  wondrously  they  were  begot  and  bred 
Through  influence  of  th'  hevens  fruitfull  ray, 
As  it  in  antique  bookes  is  mentioned. 
It  was  upon  a  Sommers  shinie  day, 
When  Titan  faire  his  beames  did  display, 
In  a  fresh  fountaine,  far  from  all  mens  vew, 
She  bath'd  her  brest  the  boyling  heat  t'allay  ; 
She  bath'd  with  roses  red  and  violets  blew, 
And  all  the  sweetest  flowers  that  in  the  forrest  grew : 

Till  faint  through  yrkesome  wearines,  adowne 
Upon  the  grassy  ground  her  selfe  she  layd 
To  sleepe,  the  whiles  a  gentle  slombring  swowne 
Upon  her  fell,  all  naked  bare  displayd. 
The  sunbeames  bright  upon  her  body  playd, 
Being  through  former  bathing  mollifide, 
And  pierst  into  her  wombe,  where  they  embayd 
With  so  sweet  sence  and  secret  powre  unspide, 
That  in  her  pregnant  flesh  they  shortly  fruftifide. 

Miraculous  may  seeme  to  him  that  reades 
So  straunge  ensample  of  conception ; 
But  reason  teacheth  that  the  fruitfull  seades 
Of  all  things  living,  through  impression 
Of  the  sunbeames  in  moyst  complexion, 
Doe  life  conceive  and  quickned  are  by  kynd  : 
So,  after  Nilus  inundation, 
Infinite  shapes  of  creatures  men  doe  fynd 
Informed  in  the  mud  on  which  the  Sunne  hath  shynd. 


Book  III. 
Canto  VI. 

Great  father  he  of  generation 
Is  rightly  cald,  th'authour  of  life  and  light ; 
And  his  faire  sister  for  creation 
Ministreth  matter  fit,  which,  tempred  right 
With  heate  and  humour,  breedes  the  living  wight. 
So  sprong  these  twinnes  in  womb  of  Chrysogone  ; 
Yet  wist  she  nought  thereof,  but  sore  affright, 
Wondred  to  see  her  belly  so  upblone, 
Which  still  increast  till  she  her  terme  had  full  outgone. 

Whereof  conceiving  shame  and  foule  disgrace, 
Albe  her  guiltlesse  conscience  her  cleard, 
She  fled  into  the  wildernesse  a  space, 
Till  that  unweeldy  burden  she  had  reard, 
And  shund  dishonor  which  as  death  she  feard  : 
Where,  wearie  of  long  traveill,  downe  to  rest 
Her  selfe  she  set,  and  comfortably  cheard : 
There  a  sad  cloud  of  sleepe  her  overkest, 
And  seized  every  sence  with  sorrow  sore  opprest. 

It  fortuned,  faire  Venus  having  lost 
Her  little  Sonne,  the  winged  god  of  love, 
Who,  for  some  light  displeasure  which  him  crost, 
Was  from  her  fled  as  flit  as  ayery  Dove, 
And  left  her  blisfull  bowre  of  joy  above  : 
(So  from  her  often  he  had  fled  away, 
When  she  for  ought  him  sharpely  did  reprove, 
And  wandred  in  the  world  in  straunge  aray, 
Disguiz'd  in  thousand  shapes,  that  none  might  him  bewray.) 


Him  for  to  seeke,  she  left  her  heavenly  hous, 
The  house  of  goodly  formes  and  faire  aspect, 
Whence  all  the  world  derives  the  glorious 
Features  of  beautie,  and  all  shapes  select, 
With  which  high  God  his  workmanship  hath  deckt ; 
And  searched  everie  way  through  which  his  wings 
Had  borne  him,  or  his  tract  she  mote  detect : 
She  promist  kisses  sweet,  and  sweeter  things, 
Unto  the  man  that  of  him  tydings  to  her  brings. 

First  she  him  sought  in  Court,  where  most  he  us'd 
Whylome  to  haunt,  but  there  she  found  him  not ; 
But  many  there  she  found  which  sore  accus'd 
His  falshood,  and  with  fowle  infamous  blot 
His  cruell  deedes  and  wicked  wyles  did  spot: 
Ladies  and  Lordes  she  everywhere  mote  heare 
Complayning,  how  with  his  empoysned  shot 
Their  wofull  harts  he  wounded  had  whyleare, 
And  so  had  left  them  languishing  twixt  hope  and  feare. 

She  then  the  Cities  sought  from  gate  to  gate, 
And  everie  one  did  aske,  did  he  him  see  ? 
And  everie  one  her  answerd,  that  too  late 
He  had  him  seene,  and  felt  the  crueltee 
Of  his  sharpe  dartes  and  whot  artilleree  : 
And  every  one  threw  forth  reproches  rife 
Of  his  mischievous  deedes,  and  sayd  that  hee 
Was  the  disturber  of  all  civill  life, 
The  enimy  of  peace,  and  authour  of  all  strife. 


Book  III. 
Canto  VI. 

Then  in  the  countrey  she  abroad  him  sought, 
And  in  the  rurall  cottages  inquir'd ; 
Where  also  many  plaintes  to  her  were  brought, 
How  he  their  heedelesse  harts  with  love  had  fir'd, 
And  his  false  venim  through  their  veines  inspir'd : 
And  eke  the  gentle  Shepheard  swaynes,  which  sat 
Keeping  their  fleecy  flockes  as  they  were  hyr'd, 
She  sweetly  heard  complaine,  both  how  and  what 
Her  sonne  had  to  them  doen ;  yet  she  did  smile  thereat. 

But  when  in  none  of  all  these  she  him  got, 
She  gan  avize  where  els  he  mote  him  hyde : 
At  last  she  her  bethought  that  she  had  not 
Yet  sought  the  salvage  woods  and  forests  wyde, 
In  which  full  many  lovely  Nymphes  abyde ; 
Mongst  whom  might  be  that  he  did  closely  lye, 
Or  that  the  love  of  some  of  them  him  tyde  : 
Forthy  she  thither  cast  her  course  t'apply, 
To  search  the  secret  haunts  of  Dianes  company. 

Shortly  unto  the  wastefull  woods  she  came, 
Whereas  she  found  the  Goddesse  with  her  crew, 
After  late  chace  of  their  embrewed  game, 
Sitting  beside  a  fountaine  in  a  rew  ; 
Some  of  them  washing  with  the  liquid  dew 
From  off  their  dainty  limbs  the  dusty  sweat 
And  soyle,  which  did  deforme  their  lively  hew ; 
Others  lay  shaded  from  the  scorching  heat, 
The  rest  upon  her  person  gave  attendance  great. 


She,  having  hong  upon  a  bough  on  high 
Her  bow  and  painted  quiver,  had  unlaste 
Her  silver  buskins  from  her  nimble  thigh, 
And  her  lanck  loynes  ungirt,  and  brests  unbraste, 
'After  her  heat  the  breathing  cold  to  taste : 
Her  golden  lockes,  that  late  in  tresses  bright 
Embreaded  were  for  hindring  of  her  haste, 
Now  loose  about  her  shoulders  hong  undight, 
And  were  with  sweet  Ambrosia  all  besprinckled  light. 

Soone  as  she  Venus  saw  behinde  her  backe, 
She  was  asham'd  to  be  so  loose  surpriz'd ; 
And  woxe  halfe  wroth  against  her  damzels  slacke, 
That  had  not  her  thereof  before  aviz'd, 
But  suffred  her  so  carelesly  disguiz'd 
Be  overtaken.    Soone  her  garments  loose 
Upgath'ring,  in  her  bosome  she  compriz'd 
Well  as  she  might,  and  to  the  Goddesse  rose ; 
Whiles  all  her  Nymphes  did  like  a  girlond  her  enclose. 

Goodly  she  gan  faire  Cytherea  greet, 
And  shortly  asked  her,  what  cause  her  brought 
Into  that  wildernesse  for  her  unmeet, 
From  her  sweete  bowres,  and  beds  with  pleasures  fraught  ? 
That  suddein  chaunge  she  straunge  adventure  thought. 
To  whom  halfe  weeping  she  thus  answered ; 
That  she  her  dearest  sonne  Cupido  sought, 
Who  in  his  frowardnes  from  her  was  fled, 
That  she  repented  sore  to  have  him  angered. 


Book  III. 
Canto  VI. 




Book  III. 
Canto  VI. 

Thereat  Diana  gan  to  smile,  in  scorne 
Of  her  vaine  playnt,  and  to  her  scoffing  sayd : 
"  Great  pitty  sure  that  ye  be  so  forlorne 
Of  your  gay  sonne,  that  gives  ye  so  good  ayd 
To  your  disports :  ill  mote  ye  bene  apayd." 
But  she  was  more  engrieved,  and  replide ; 
"  Faire  sister,  ill  beseemes  it  to  upbrayd 
A  dolefull  heart  with  so  disdainfull  pride  : 
The  like  that  mine  may  be  your  paine  another  tide. 

"  As  you  in  woods  and  wanton  wildernesse 
Your  glory  sett  to  chace  the  salvage  beasts, 
So  my  delight  is  all  in  joyfulnesse, 
In  beds,  in  bowres,  in  banckets,  and  in  feasts  : 
And  ill  becomes  you,  with  your  lofty  creasts, 
To  scorne  the  joy  that  Jove  is  glad  to  seeke  : 
We  both  are  bownd  to  follow  heavens  beheasts, 
And  tend  our  charges  with  obeisaunce  meeke. 
Spare,  gentle  sister,  with  reproch  my  paine  to  eeke ; 

"  And  tell  me,  if  that  ye  my  sonne  have  heard 
To  lurke  emongst  your  Nimphes  in  secret  wize, 
Or  keepe  their  cabins :  much  I  am  affeard 
Least  he  like  one  of  them  him  selfe  disguize, 
And  turne  his  arrowes  to  their  exercize. 
So  may  he  long  him  selfe  full  easie  hide ; 
For  he  is  faire  and  fresh  in  face  and  guize 
As  any  Nimphe ;  (let  not  it  be  envide.") 
So  saying,  every  Nimph  full  narrowly  shee  eide. 


But  Phoebe  therewith  sore  was  angered, 
And  sharply  saide  :  "  Goe,  Dame  ;  goe,  seeke  your  boy, 
Where  you  him  lately  lefte,  in  Mars  his  bed : 
He  comes  not  here ;  we  scorne  his  foolish  joy, 
Ne  lend  we  leisure  to  his  idle  toy : 
But  if  I  catch  him  in  this  company, 
By  Stygian  lake  I  vow,  whose  sad  annoy 
The  Gods  doe  dread,  he  dearly  shall  abye : 
He  clip  his  wanton  wings,  that  he  no  more  shall  flye." 

Book  III. 
Canto  VI. 

Whom  whenas  Venus  saw  so  sore  displeasd, 
Shee  inly  sory  was,  and  gan  relent 
What  shee  had  said ;  so  her  she  soone  appeasd 
With  sugred  words  and  gentle  blandishment, 
Which  as  a  fountaine  from  her  sweete  lips  went. 
And  welled  goodly  forth,  that  in  short  space 
She  was  well  pleasd,  and  forth  her  damzells  sent 
Through  all  the  woods,  to  search  from  place  to  place, 
If  any  tracT:  of  him  or  tidings  they  mote  trace. 

To  search  the  God  of  love  her  Nimphes  she  sent 
Throughout  the  wandring  forest  every  where : 
And  after  them  her  selfe  eke  with  her  went 
To  seeke  the  fugitive  both  farre  and  nere. 
So  long  they  sought,  till  they  arrived  were 
In  that  same  shady  covert  whereas  lay 
Faire  Crysogone  in  slombry  traunce  whilere; 
Who  in  her  sleepe  (a  wondrous  thing  to  say) 
Unwares  had  borne  two  babes,  as  faire  as  springing  day 





Book  III. 
Canto  VI. 

Unwares  she  them  conceivd,  unwares  she  bore : 
She  bore  withouten  paine,  as  she  conceiv'd 
Withouten  pleasure ;  ne  her  need  implore 
Lucinaes  aide :  which  when  they  both  perceiv'd, 
They  were  through  wonder  nigh  of  sence  berev'd, 
And  gazing  each  on  other  nought  bespake. 
At  last  they  both  agreed  her  seeming  griev'd 
Out  of  her  heavie  swowne  not  to  awake 
But  from  her  loving  side  the  tender  babes  to  take. 

Up  they  them  tooke ;  each  one  a  babe  uptooke, 
And  with  them  carried  to  be  fostered. 
Dame  Phoebe  to  a  Nymphe  her  babe  betooke 
To  be  upbrought  in  perfect  Maydenhed, 
And,  of  her  selfe,  her  name  Belphcebe  red  : 
But  Venus  hers  thence  far  away  convayd, 
To  be  upbrought  in  goodly  womanhed ; 
And,  in  her  litle  loves  stead,  which  was  strayd, 
Her  Amoretta  cald,  to  comfort  her  dismayd. 

Shee  brought  her  to  her  joyous  Paradize, 
Wher  most  she  wonnes  when  she  on  earth  does  dwell ; 
So  faire  a  place  as  Nature  can  devize  : 
Whether  in  Paphos,  or  Cytheron  hill, 
Or  it  in  Gnidus  bee,  I  wote  not  well ; 
But  well  I  wote  by  triall,  that  this  same 
All  other  pleasaunt  places  doth  excell, 
And  called  is  by  her  lost  lovers  name, 
The  Gardin  of  Adonis,  far  renowmd  by  fame. 


In  that  same  Gardin  all  the  goodly  flowres,  THE 
Wherewith  dame  Nature  doth  her  beautify,  FAERIE 
And  decks  the  girlonds  of  her  Paramoures,  B^IH^' 
Are  fetcht :  there  is  the  first  seminary  Canto  VI. 

Of  all  things  that  are  borne  to  live  and  dye, 
According  to  their  kynds.    Long  worke  it  were 
Here  to  account  the  endlesse  progeny 
Of  all  the  weeds  that  bud  and  blossome  there ; 
But  so  much  as  doth  need  must  needs  be  counted  here. 

It  sited  was  in  fruitfull  soyle  of  old, 
And  girt  in  with  two  walls  on  either  side  ; 
The  one  of  yron,  the  other  of  bright  gold, 
That  none  might  thorough  breake,  nor  overstride 
And  double  gates  it  had  which  opened  wide, 
By  which  both  in  and  out  men  moten  pas  : 
Th'one  faire  and  fresh,  the  other  old  and  dride. 
Old  Genius  the  porter  of  them  was, 
Old  Genius,  the  which  a  double  nature  has. 

He  letteth  in,  he  letteth  out  to  wend 
All  that  to  come  into  the  world  desire : 
A  thousand  thousand  naked  babes  attend 
About  him  day  and  night,  which  doe  require 
That  he  with  fleshly  weeds  would  them  attire : 
Such  as  him  list,  such  as  eternall  fate 
Ordained  hath,  he  clothes  with  sinfull  mire, 
And  sendeth  forth  to  live  in  mortall  state, 
Till  they  agayn  returne  backe  by  the  hinder  gate 





Book  III. 
Canto  VI. 

After  that  they  againe  retourned  beene, 
They  in  that  Gardin  planted  bee  agayne, 
And  grow  afresh,  as  they  had  never  seene 
Fleshly  corruption,  nor  mortall  payne. 
Some  thousand  yeares  so  doen  they  there  remayne, 
And  then  of  him  are  clad  with  other  hew, 
Or  sent  into  the  chaungefull  world  agayne, 
Till  thither  they  retourne  where  first  they  grew : 
So,  like  a  wheele,  arownd  they  ronne  from  old  to  new. 

Ne  needs  there  Gardiner  to  sett  or  sow, 
To  plant  or  prune  ;  for  of  their  owne  accord 
All  things,  as  they  created  were,  doe  grow, 
And  yet  remember  well  the  mighty  word 
Which  first  was  spoken  by  th' Almighty  Lord, 
That  bad  them  to  increase  and  multiply : 
Ne  doe  they  need  with  water  of  the  ford, 
Or  of  the  clouds,  to  moysten  their  roots  dry ; 
For  in  themselves  eternall  moisture  they  imply. 

Infinite  shapes  of  creatures  there  are  bred, 
And  uncouth  formes,  which  none  yet  ever  knew  : 
And  every  sort  is  in  a  sondry  bed 
Sett  by  it  selfe,  and  ranckt  in  comely  rew ; 
Some  fitt  for  reasonable  sowles  t'indew ; 
Some  made  for  beasts,  some  made  for  birds  to  weare  ; 
And  all  the  fruitfull  spawne  of  fishes  hew 
In  endlesse  rancks  along  enraunged  were, 
That  seemd  the  Ocean  could  not  containe  them  there. 


Daily  they  grow,  and  daily  forth  are  sent 
Into  the  world,  it  to  replenish  more ; 
Yet  is  the  stocke  not  lessened  nor  spent, 
But  still  remaines  in  everlasting  store, 
As  it  at  first  created  was  of  yore : 
For  in  the  wide  wombe  of  the  world  there  lyes, 
In  hatefull  darknes  and  in  deepe  horrore 
An  huge  eternall  Chaos,  which  supplyes 
The  substaunces  of  natures  fruitfull  progenyes. 

All  things  from  thence  doe  their  first  being  fetch, 
And  borrow  matter  whereof  they  are  made  ; 
Which,  whenas  forme  and  feature  it  does  ketch, 
Becomes  a  body,  and  doth  then  invade 
The  state  of  life  out  of  the  griesly  shade. 
That  substaunce  is  eterne,  and  bideth  so ; 
Ne  when  the  life  decayes  and  forme  does  fade, 
Doth  it  consume  and  into  nothing  goe, 
But  chaunged  is,  and  often  altred  to  and  froe. 

The  substaunce  is  not  chaungd  nor  altered, 
But  th'only  forme  and  outward  fashion  ; 
For  every  substaunce  is  conditioned 
To  chaunge  her  hew,  and  sondry  formes  to  don, 
Meet  for  her  temper  and  complexion  : 
For  formes  are  variable,  and  decay 
By  course  of  kinde  and  by  occasion ; 
And  that  faire  flowre  of  beautie  fades  away, 
As  doth  the  lilly  fresh  before  the  sunny  ray.  ' 





Book  III. 
Canto  VI. 

Great  enimy  to  it,  and  to  all  the  rest 
That  in  the  Gardin  of  Adonis  springs, 
Is  wicked  Tyme ;  who  with  his  scyth  addrest 
Does  mow  the  flowring  herbes  and  goodly  things, 
And  all  their  glory  to  the  ground  downe  flings, 
Where  they  do  wither,  and  are  fowly  mard : 
He  flyes  about,  and  with  his  flaggy  winges 
Beates  downe  both  leaves  and  buds  without  regard, 
Ne  ever  pitty  may  relent  his  malice  hard. 

Yet  pitty  often  did  the  gods  relent, 
To  see  so  faire  thinges  mard  and  spoiled  quight ; 
And  their  great  mother  Venus  did  lament 
The  losse  of  her  deare  brood,  her  deare  delight : 
Her  hart  was  pierst  with  pitty  at  the  sight, 
When  walking  through  the  Gardin  them  she  saw, 
Yet  no'te  she  find  redresse  for  such  despight : 
For  all  that  lives  is  subjecl  to  that  law ; 
All  things  decay  in  time,  and  to  their  end  doe  draw. 

But  were  it  not  that  Time  their  troubler  is, 
All  that  in  this  delightfull  Gardin  growes 
Should  happy  bee,  and  have  immortall  blis : 
For  here  all  plenty  and  all  pleasure  flowes ; 
And  sweete  love  gentle  fitts  emongst  them  throwes, 
Without  fell  rancor  or  fond  gealosy. 
Franckly  each  Paramor  his  leman  knowes, 
Each  bird  his  mate ;  ne  any  does  envy 
Their  goodly  meriment  and  gay  felicity. 


There  is  continuall  Spring,  and  harvest  there 
Continuall,  both  meeting  at  one  tyme  : 
For  both  the  boughes  doe  laughing  blossoms  beare, 
And  with  fresh  colours  decke  the  wanton  Pryme, 
And  eke  attonce  the  heavy  trees  they  clyme, 
Which  seeme  to  labour  under  their  fruites  lode : 
The  whiles  the  joyous  birdes  make  their  pastyme 
Emongst  the  shady  leaves,  their  sweet  abode, 
And  their  trew  loves  without  suspition  tell  abrode. 

Right  in  the  middest  of  that  Paradise 
There  stood  a  stately  Mount,  on  whose  round  top 
A  gloomy  grove  of  mirtle  trees  did  rise, 
Whose  shady  boughes  sharp  Steele  did  never  lop, 
Nor  wicked  beastes  their  tender  buds  did  crop, 
But  like  a  girlond  compassed  the  hight ; 
And  from  their  fruitfull  sydes  sweet  gum  did  drop, 
That  all  the  ground,  with  pretious  deaw  bedight, 
Threw  forth  most  dainty  odours  and  most  sweet  delight. 

And  in  the  thickest  covert  of  that  shade 
There  was  a  pleasaunt  Arber,  not  by  art 
But  of  the  trees  owne  inclination  made, 
Which  knitting  their  rancke  braunches,  part  to  part, 
With  wanton  yvie  twine  entrayld  athwart, 
And  Eglantine  and  Caprifole  emong, 
Fashiond  above  within  their  inmost  part, 
That  nether  Phoebus  beams  could  through  them  throng, 
Nor  Aeolus  sharp  blast  could  worke  them  any  wrong. 


Book  III. 
Canto  VI. 




Book  III. 
Canto  VI. 

And  all  about  grew  every  sort  of  flowre, 
To  which  sad  lovers  were  transformde  of  yore ; 
Fresh  Hyacinthus,  Phoebus  paramoure 
And  dearest  love ; 

Foolish  Narcisse,  that  likes  the  watry  shore  ; 
Sad  Amaranthus,  made  a  flowre  but  late, 
Sad  Amaranthus,  in  whose  purple  gore 
Me  seemes  I  see  Amintas  wretched  fate, 
To  whom  sweet  Poets  verse  hath  given  endlesse  date. 

There  wont  fayre  Venus  often  to  enjoy 
Her  deare  Adonis  joyous  company, 
And  reape  sweet  pleasure  of  the  wanton  boy : 
There  yet,  some  say,  in  secret  he  does  ly, 
Lapped  in  flowres  and  pretious  spycery, 
By  her  hid  from  the  world,  and  from  the  skill 
Of  Stygian  Gods,  which  doe  her  love  envy ; 
But  she  her  selfe,  when  ever  that  she  will, 
Possesseth  him,  and  of  his  sweetnesse  takes  her  fill. 

And  sooth,  it  seemes,  they  say ;  for  he  may  not 
For  ever  dye,  and  ever  buried  bee 
In  balefull  night  where  all  thinges  are  forgot : 
All  be  he  subject  to  mortalitie, 
Yet  is  eterne  in  mutabilitie, 
And  by  succession  made  perpetuall, 
Transformed  oft,  and  chaunged  diverslie ; 
For  him  the  Father  of  all  formes  they  call : 
Therfore  needs  mote  he  live,  that  living  gives  to  all. 



There  now  he  liveth  in  eternall  blis,  THE 
Joying  his  goddesse,  and  of  her  enjoyd  ;  FAERIE 
Ne  feareth  he  henceforth  that  foe  of  his,  QUEENE. 
Which  with  his  cruell  tuske  him  deadly  cloyd :  Canto  VI. 

For  that  wilde  Bore,  the  which  him  once  annoyd, 
She  firmely  hath  emprisoned  for  ay, 
That  her  sweet  love  his  malice  mote  avoyd, 
In  a  strong  rocky  Cave,  which  is,  they  say, 
Hewen  underneath  that  Mount,  that  none  him  losen  may. 

There  now  he  lives  in  everlasting  joy, 
With  many  of  the  Gods  in  company 
Which  thither  haunt,  and  with  the  winged  boy, 
Sporting  him  selfe  in  safe  felicity  : 
Who  when  he  hath  with  spoiles  and  cruelty 
Ransackt  the  world,  and  in  the  wofull  harts 
Of  many  wretches  set  his  triumphes  hye, 
Thither  resortes,  and,  laying  his  sad  dartes 
Asyde,  with  faire  Adonis  playes  his  wanton  partes. 

And  his  trew  love  faire  Psyche  with  him  playes, 
Fayre  Psyche  to  him  lately  reconcyld, 
After  long  troubles  and  unmeet  upbrayes 
With  which  his  mother  Venus  her  revyld, 
And  eke  himselfe  her  cruelly  exyld  : 
But  now  in  stedfast  love  and  happy  state 
She 'with  him  lives,  and  hath  him  borne  a  chyld, 
Pleasure,  that  doth  both  gods  and  men  aggrate,  ' 
Pleasure,  the  daughter  of  Cupid  and  Psyche  late.' 





Book  III. 
Canto  VI. 

Hither  great  Venus  brought  this  infant  fayre, 
The  yonger  daughter  of  Chrysogonee, 
And  unto  Psyche  with  great  trust  and  care 
Committed  her,  yfostered  to  bee 
And  trained  up  in  trew  feminitee  : 
Who  no  lesse  carefully  her  tendered 
Then  her  owne  daughter  Pleasure,  to  whom  shee 
Made  her  companion,  and  her  lessoned 
In  all  the  lore  of  love,  and  goodly  womanhead. 

In  which  when  she  to  perfect  ripenes  grew, 
Of  grace  and  beautie  noble  Paragone, 
She  brought  her  forth  into  the  worldes  vew, 
To  be  th'ensample  of  true  love  alone, 
And  Lodestarre  of  all  chaste  affection 
To  all  fayre  Ladies  that  doe  live  on  grownd. 
To  Faery  court  she  came ;  where  many  one 
Admyrd  her  goodly  haveour,  and  fownd 
His  feeble  hart  wide  launched  with  loves  cruel  wownd. 

But  she  to  none  of  them  her  love  did  cast, 
Save  to  the  noble  knight  Sir  Scudamore, 
To  whom  her  loving  hart  she  linked  fast 
In  faithfull  love,  t'abide  for  evermore  ; 
And  for  his  dearest  sake  endured  sore 
Sore  trouble  of  an  hainous  enimy, 
Who  her  would  forced  have  to  have  forlore 
Her  former  love  and  stedfast  loialty, 
As  ye  may  elswhere  reade  that  ruefull  history. 



But  well  I  weene,  ye  first  desire  to  learne 
What  end  unto  that  fearefull  Damozell, 
Which  fledd  so  fast  from  that  same  foster  stearne 
Whom  with  his  brethren  Timias  slew,  befell : 
That  was,  to  weet,  the  goodly  Florimell ; 
Who  wandring  for  to  seeke  her  lover  deare, 
Her  lover  deare,  her  dearest  Marinell, 
Into  misfortune  fell,  as  ye  did  heare, 
And  from  Prince  Arthure  fled  with  wings  of  idle  feare. 

Book  III. 
Canto  VI. 

IKE  as  an  Hynd  forth  singled  from  the  heard, 
That  hath  escaped  from  a  ravenous  beast, 
Yet  flyes  away  of  her  owne  feete  afeard, 
And  every  leafe,  that  shaketh  with  the  least 
Murmure  of  winde,  her  terror  hath  encreast ; 
So  fledd  fayre  Florimell  from  her  vaine  feare, 
Long  after  she  from  perill  was  releast : 
Each  shade  she  saw,  and  each  noyse  she  did  heare, 
Did  seeme  to  be  the  same  which  she  escapt  whileare. 

All  that  same  evening  she  in  flying  spent, 
And  all  that  night  her  course  continewed ; 
Ne  did  she  let  dull  sleepe  once  to  relent, 
Nor  wearinesse  to  slack  her  hast,  but  fled 
Ever  alike,  as  if  her  former  dred 
Were  hard  behind,  her  ready  to  arrest ; 
And  her  white  Palfrey,  having  conquered 
The  maistring  raines  out  of  her  weary  wrest, 
Perforce  her  carried  where  ever  he  thought  best. 

677  4H 

Book  III. 
Canto  VII. 

So  long  as  breath  and  hable  puissaunce 
Did  native  corage  unto  him  supply, 
His  pace  he  freshly  forward  did  advaunce, 
And  carried  her  beyond  all  jeopardy  ; 
But  nought  that  wanteth  rest  can  long  aby  : 
He,  having  through  incessant  traveill  spent 
His  force,  at  last  perforce  adowne  did  ly, 
Ne  foot  could  further  move.    The  Lady  gent 
Thereat  was  suddein  strook  with  great  astonishment ; 

And,  forst  t'alight,  on  foot  mote  algates  fare 
A  traveiler  unwonted  to  such  way  : 
Need  teacheth  her  this  lesson  hard  and  rare, 
That  fortune  all  in  equall  launce  doth  sway, 
And  mortall  miseries  doth  make  her  play. 
So  long  she  traveild,  till  at  length  she  came 
To  an  hilles  side,  which  did  to  her  bewray 
A  litle  valley  subject  to  the  same, 
All  coverd  with  thick  woodes  that  quite  it  overcame. 

Through  the  tops  of  the  high  trees  she  did  descry 
A  litle  smoke,  whose  vapour  thin  and  light 
Reeking  aloft  uprolled  to  the  sky : 
Which  chearefull  signe  did  send  unto  her  sight 
That  in  the  same  did  wonne  some  living  wight. 
Eftsoones  her  steps  she  thereunto  applyd, 
And  came  at  last  in  weary  wretched  plight 
Unto  the  place,  to  which  her  hope  did  guyde, 
To  finde  some  refuge  there,  and  rest  her  wearie  syde. 


There  in  a  gloomy  hollow  glen  she  found 
A  little  cottage,  built  of  stickes  and  reedes 
In  homely  wize,  and  wald  with  sods  around ; 
In  which  a  witch  did  dwell,  in  loathly  weedes 
And  wilfull  want,  all  carelesse  of  her  needes ; 
So  choosing  solitarie  to  abide 
F ar  from  all  neighbours,  that  her  divelish  deedes 
And  hellish  arts  from  people  she  might  hide, 
And  hurt  far  off  unknowne  whom  ever  she  envide. 

The  Damzell  there  arriving  entred  in ; 
Where  sitting  on  the  flore  the  Hag  she  found 
Busie  (as  seem'd)  about  some  wicked  gin : 
Who,  soone  as  she  beheld  that  suddein  stound, 
Lightly  upstarted  from  the  dustie  ground, 
And  with  fell  looke  and  hollow  deadly  gaze 
Stared  on  her  awhile,  as  one  astound, 
Ne  had  one  word  to  speake  for  great  amaze, 
But  shewd  by  outward  signes  that  dread  her  sence  did  daze. 

At  last,  turning  her  feare  to  foolish  wrath, 
She  askt,  what  devill  had  her  thither  brought, 
And  who  she  was,  and  what  unwonted  path 
Had  guided  her,  unwelcomed,  unsought  ? 
To  which  the  Damzell,  full  of  doubtfull  thought, 
Her  mildly  answer'd  :  "  Beldame,  be  not  wroth 
With  silly  Virgin,  by  adventure  brought 
Unto  your  dwelling,  ignorant  and  loth, 
That  crave  but  rowme  to  rest  while  tempest  overblo'th." 


Book  III. 
Canto  VII. 






Book  III. 
Canto  VII. 

With  that  adowne  out  of  her  christall  eyne 
Few  trickling  teares  she  softly  forth  let  fall, 
That  like  to  orient  perles  did  purely  shyne 
Upon  her  snowy  cheeke  ;  and  therewithall 
She  sighed  soft,  that  none  so  bestiall 
Nor  salvage  hart,  but  ruth  of  her  sad  plight 
Would  make  to  melt,  or  pitteously  appall ; 
And  that  vile  Hag,  all  were  her  whole  delight 
In  mischiefe,  was  much  moved  at  so  pitteous  sight  ; 

And  gan  recomfort  her  in  her  rude  wyse, 
With  womanish  compassion  of  her  plaint, 
Wiping  the  teares  from  her  suffused  eyes, 
And  bidding  her  sit  downe,  to  rest  her  faint 
And  wearie  limbes  awhile.    She,  nothing  quaint 
Nor  'sdeignfull  of  so  homely  fashion, 
Sith  brought  she  was  now  to  so  hard  constraint, 
Sate  downe  upon  the  dusty  ground  anon  ; 
As  glad  of  that  small  rest  as  Bird  of  tempest  gon. 

Tho  gan  she  gather  up  her  garments  rent, 
And  her  loose  lockes  to  dight  in  order  dew 
With  golden  wreath  and  gorgeous  ornament ; 
Whom  such  whenas  the  wicked  Hag  did  vew, 
She  was  astonisht  at  her  heavenly  hew, 
And  doubted  her  to  deeme  an  earthly  wight, 
But  or  some  Goddesse,  or  of  Dianes  crew, 
And  thought  her  to  adore  with  humble  spright 
T'adore  thing  so  divine  as  beauty  were  but  right. 


This  wicked  woman  had  a  wicked  Sonne, 
The  comfort  of  her  age  and  weary  dayes, 
A  laesy  loord,  for  nothing  good  to  donne, 
But  stretched  forth  in  ydlenesse  alwayes, 
Ne  ever  cast  his  mind  to  covet  prayse, 
Or  ply  himselfe  to  any  honest  trade, 
But  all  the  day  before  the  sunny  rayes 
He  us'd  to  slug,  or  sleepe  in  slothfull  shade : 
Such  laesinesse  both  lewd  and  poore  attonce  him  made. 




Book  III. 
Canto  VII. 

He,  comming  home  at  undertime,  there  found 
The  fayrest  creature  that  he  ever  saw 
Sitting  beside  his  mother  on  the  ground ; 
The  sight  whereof  did  greatly  him  adaw, 
And  his  base  thought  with  terrour  and  with  aw 
So  inly  smot,  that  as  one,  which  hath  gaz'd 
On  the  bright  Sunne  unwares,  doth  soone  withdraw 
His  feeble  eyne,  with  too  much  brightnes  daz'd, 
So  stared  he  on  her,  and  stood  long  while  amaz'd. 

Softly  at  last  he  gan  his  mother  aske, 
What  mister  wight  that  was,  and  whence  deriv'd, 
That  in  so  straunge  disguizement  there  did  maske, 
And  by  what  accident  she  there  arriv'd  ? 
But  she,  as  one  nigh  of  her  wits  depriv'd, 
With  nought  but  ghastly  lookes  him  answered ; 
Like  to  a  ghost,  that  lately  is  reviv'd 
From  Stygian  shores  where  late  it  wandered  : 
So  both  at  her,  and  each  at  other  wondered. 





Boole  III. 
Canto  VII. 

But  the  fayre  Virgin  was  so  meeke  and  myld, 
That  she  to  them  vouchsafed  to  embace 
Her  goodly  port,  and  to  their  senses  vyld 
Her  gentle  speach  applyde,  that  in  short  space 
She  grew  familiare  in  that  desert  place. 
During  which  time  the  Chorle,  through  her  so  kind 
And  courteise  use,  conceiv'd  afFedtion  bace, 
And  cast  to  love  her  in  his  brutish  mind  : 
No  love,  but  brutish  lust,  that  was  so  beastly  tind. 

Closely  the  wicked  flame  his  bowels  brent, 
And  shortly  grew  into  outrageous  fire  ; 
Yet  had  he  not  the  hart,  nor  hardiment, 
As  unto  her  to  utter  his  desire ; 
His  caytive  thought  durst  not  so  high  aspire : 
But  with  soft  sighes  and  lovely  semblaunces 
He  ween'd  that  his  afFedtion  entire 
She  should  aread ;  many  resemblaunces 
To  her  he  made,  and  many  kinde  remembraunces. 

Oft  from  the  forrest  wildings  he  did  bring, 
Whose  sides  empurpled  were  with  smyling  red ; 
And  oft  young  birds,  which  he  had  taught  to  sing, 
His  maistresse  praises  sweetly  caroled ; 
Girlonds  of  flowres  sometimes  for  her  faire  hed 
He  fine  would  dight ;  sometimes  the  squirrell  wild 
He  brought  to  her  in  bands,  as  conquered 
To  be  her  thrall,  his  fellow-servant  vild  : 
All  which  she  of  him  tooke  with  countenance  meeke  and  mild. 


But,  past  a  while,  when  she  fit  season  saw 
To  leave  that  desert  mansion,  she  cast 
In  secret  wize  herselfe  thence  to  withdraw, 
For  feare  of  mischiefe,  which  she  did  forecast 
Might  by  the  witch  or  by  her  sonne  compast. 
Her  wearie  Palfrey,  closely  as  she  might, 
Now  well  recovered  after  long  repast, 
In  his  proud  furnitures  she  freshly  dight, 
His  late  miswandred  wayes  now  to  remeasure  right. 

And  earely,  ere  the  dawning  day  appear'd, 
She  forth  issewed,  and  on  her  journey  went  : 
She  went  in  perill,  of  each  noyse  affeard, 
And  of  each  shade  that  did  it  selfe  present ; 
For  still  she  feared  to  be  overhent 
Of  that  vile  hag,  or  her  uncivile  sonne ; 
Who  when,  too  late  awaking,  well  they  kent 
That  their  fayre  guest  was  gone,  they  both  begonne 
To  make  exceeding  mone,  as  they  had  been  undonne. 

But  that  lewd  lover  did  the  most  lament 
For  her  depart,  that  ever  man  did  heare  : 
He  knockt  his  brest  with  desperate  intent, 
And  scratcht  his  face,  and  with  his  teeth  did  teare 
His  rugged  flesh,  and  rent  his  ragged  heare ; 
That  his  sad  mother,  seeing  his  sore  plight, 
Was  greatly  woe  begon,  and  gan  to  feare 
Least  his  fraile  senses  were  emperisht  quight, 
And  love  to  frenzy  turnd,  sith  love  is  franticke  hight 


Book  III. 
Canto  VII. 




Book  III. 
Canto  VII. 

All  wayes  shee  sought  him  to  restore  to  plight, 
With  herbs,  with  charms,  with  counsel,  and  with  teares 
But  tears,  nor  charms,  nor  herbs,  nor  counsell,  might 
Asswage  the  fury  which  his  entrails  teares : 
So  strong  is  passion  that  no  reason  heares. 
Tho  when  all  other  helpes  she  saw  to  faile, 
She  turnd  her  selfe  backe  to  her  wicked  leares ; 
And  by  her  divelish  arts  thought  to  prevaile 
To  bringe  her  backe  againe,  or  worke  her  finall  bale. 

Eftesoones  out  of  her  hidden  cave  she  cald 
An  hideous  beast  of  horrible  aspect, 
T  hat  could  the  stoutest  corage  have  appald ; 
Monstrous,  mishapt,  and  all  his  backe  was  sped!: 
With  thousand  spots  of  colours  queint  eleft, 
Thereto  so  swifte  that  it  all  beasts  did  pas : 
Like  never  yet  did  living  eie  detedt ; 
But  likest  it  to  an  Hyena  was, 
That  feeds  on  wemens  flesh  as  others  feede  on  gras. 

It  forth  she  cald,  and  gave  it  streight  in  charge 
Through  thicke  and  thin  her  to  poursew  apace, 
Ne  once  to  stay  to  rest,  or  breath  at  large, 
Till  her  he  had  attaind  and  brought  in  place, 
Or  quite  devourd  her  beauties  scornefull  grace. 
The  Monster,  swifte  as  word  that  from  her  went, 
Went  forth  in  haste,  and  did  her  footing  trace 
So  sure  and  swiftly,  through  his  perfect  sent 
And  passing  speede,  that  shortly  he  her  overhent. 


Whom  when  the  fearefull  Damzell  nigh  espide, 
No  need  to  bid  her  fast  away  to  flie : 
That  ugly  shape  so  sore  her  terrifide, 
That  it  she  shund  no  lesse  then  dread  to  die ; 
And  her  flitt  palfrey  did  so  well  apply 
His  nimble  feet  to  her  conceived  feare, 
That  whilest  his  breath  did  strength  to  him  supply, 
From  peril  free  he  away  her  did  beare ; 
But  when  his  force  gan  faile  his  pace  gan  wex  areare. 




Book  III. 
Canto  VII. 

Which  whenas  she  perceiv'd,  she  was  dismayd 
At  that  same  last  extremity  ful  sore, 
And  of  her  safety  greatly  grew  afrayd. 
And  now  she  gan  approch  to  the  sea  shore, 
As  it  befell,  that  she  could  flie  no  more, 
But  yield  herselfe  to  spoile  of  greedinesse : 
Lightly  she  leaped,  as  a  wight  forlore, 
From  her  dull  horse,  in  desperate  distresse, 
And  to  her  feet  betooke  her  doubtfull  sickernesse. 

Not  halfe  so  fast  the  wicked  Myrrha  fled 
From  dread  of  her  revenging  fathers  hond  ; 
Nor  halfe  so  fast  to  save  her  maydenhed 
Fled  fearfull  Daphne  on  th'^Egasan  strond, 
As  Florimell  fled  from  that  Monster  yond, 
To  reach  the  sea  ere  she  of  him  were  raught : 
For  in  the  sea  to  drowne  herselfe  she  fond, 
Rather  then  of  the  tyrant  to  be  caught : 
Thereto  fear  gave  her  wings,  and  need  her  corage  taught 


Book  III. 
Canto  VII. 

It  fortuned  (high  God  did  so  ordaine) 
As  shee  arrived  on  the  roring  shore, 
In  minde  to  leape  into  the  mighty  maine, 
A  little  bote  lay  hoving  her  before, 
In  which  there  slept  a  fisher  old  and  pore, 
The  whiles  his  nets  were  drying  on  the  sand. 
Into  the  same  shee  lept,  and  with  the  ore 
Did  thrust  the  shallop  from  the  doting  strand : 
So  safety  fownd  at  sea  which  she  fownd  not  at  land. 

The  Monster,  ready  on  the  pray  to  sease, 
Was  of  his  forward  hope  deceived  quight ; 
Ne  durst  assay  to  wade  the  perlous  seas, 
But  greedily  long  gaping  at  the  sight, 
At  last  in  vaine  was  forst  to  turne  his  flight, 
And  tell  the  idle  tidings  to  his  Dame : 
Yet,  to  avenge  his  divelish  despight, 
He  sett  upon  her  Palfrey  tired  lame, 
And  slew  him  cruelly  ere  any  reskew  came. 

And,  after  having  him  embowelled 
To  fill  his  hellish  gorge,  it  chaunst  a  knight 
To  passe  that  way,  as  forth  he  traveiled : 
Yt  was  a  goodly  Swaine,  and  of  great  might, 
As  ever  man  that  bloody  field  did  fight ; 
But  in  vain  sheows,  that  wont  yong  knights  bewi 
And  courtly  services,  tooke  no  delight ; 
But  rather  joyd  to  bee  then  seemen  sich, 
For  both  to  be  and  seeme  to  him  was  labor  lich. 


It  was  to  weete  the  good  Sir  Satyrane, 
That  raungd  abrode  to  seeke  adventures  wilde, 
As  was  his  wont,  in  forest  and  in  plaine  : 
He  was  all  armd  in  rugged  Steele  unhide, 
As  in  the  smoky  forge  it  was  compilde, 
And  in  his  Scutchin  bore  a  Satyres  hedd. 
He  comming  present,  where  the  Monster  vilde 
Upon  that  milke-white  Palfreyes  carcas  fedd, 
Unto  his  reskew  ran,  and  greedily  him  spedd. 

There  well  perceivd  he  that  it  was  the  horse 
Whereon  faire  Florimell  was  wont  to  ride, 
That  of  that  feend  was  rent  without  remorse : 
Much  feared  he  least  ought  did  ill  betide 
To  that  faire  Maide,  the  flowre  of  wemens  pride ; 
For  her  he  dearely  loved,  and  in  all 
His  famous  conquests  highly  magnifide  : 
Besides,  her  golden  girdle,  which  did  fall 
From  her  in  flight,  he  fownd,  that  did  him  sore  apall. 

Full  of  sad  feare  and  doubtfull  agony 
Fiercely  he  flew  upon  that  wicked  feend, 
And  with  huge  strokes  and  cruell  battery 
Him  fors't  to  leave  his  pray,  for  to  attend 
Him  selfe  from  deadly  daunger  to  defend  : 
F ull  many  wounds  in  his  corrupted  flesh 
He  did  engrave,  and  muchell  blood  did  spend, 
Yet  might  not  doe  him  die :  but  aie  more  fresh 
And  fierce  he  still  appeard,  the  more  he  did  him  thresh 


Book  III. 
Canto  VII. 

He  wist  not  how  him  to  despoile  of  life, 
Ne  how  to  win  the  wished  victory, 
Sith  him  he  saw  still  stronger  grow  through  strife, 
And  him  selfe  weaker  through  infirmity. 
Greatly  he  grew  enrag'd,  and  furiously 
Hurling  his  sword  away  he  lightly  lept 
Upon  the  beast,  that  with  great  cruelty 
Rored  and  raged  to  be  underkept ; 
Yet  he  perforce  him  held,  and  strokes  upon  him  hept. 

As  he  that  strives  to  stop  a  suddein  flood, 
And  in  strong  bancks  his  violence  enclose, 
Forceth  it  swell  above  his  wonted  mood, 
And  largely  overflow  the  fruitfull  plaine, 
That  all  the  countrey  seemes  to  be  a  Maine, 
And  the  rich  furrowes  flote,  all  quite  fordonne : 
The  wofull  husbandman  doth  lowd  complaine 
To  see  his  whole  yeares  labor  lost  so  soone, 
For  which  to  God  he  made  so  many  an  idle  boone : 

So  him  he  held,  and  did  through  might  amate. 
So  long  he  held  him,  and  him  bett  so  long, 
That  at  the  last  his  fiercenes  gan  abate, 
And  meekely  stoup  unto  the  vi&or  strong : 
Who,  to  avenge  the  implacable  wrong 
Which  he  supposed  donne  to  Florimell, 
Sought  by  all  meanes  his  dolor  to  prolong, 
Sith  dint  of  Steele  his  carcas  could  not  quell  ; 
His  maker  with  her  charmes  had  framed  him  so  well. 


The  golden  ribband,  which  that  virgin  wore 
About  her  sclender  waste,  he  tooke  in  hand, 
And  with  it  bownd  the  beast,  that  lowd  did  rore 
For  great  despight  of  that  unwonted  band, 
Yet  dared  not  his  viftor  to  withstand, 
But  trembled  like  a  lambe  fled  from  the  pray  ; 
And  all  the  way  him  followd  on  the  strand, 
As  he  had  long  bene  learned  to  obay ; 
Yet  never  learned  he  such  service  till  that  day. 

Thus  as  he  led  the  Beast  along  the  way, 
He  spide  far  off  a  mighty  Giauntesse 
Fast  flying,  on  a  Courser  dapled  gray, 
From  a  bold  knight  that  with  great  hardinesse 
Her  hard  pursewd,  and  sought  for  to  suppresse. 
She  bore  before  her  lap  a  dolefull  Squire, 
Lying  athwart  her  horse  in  great  distresse, 
Fast  bounden  hand  and  foote  with  cords  of  wire, 
Whom  she  did  meane  to  make  the  thrall  of  her  desire. 

Which  whenas  Satyrane  beheld,  in  haste 
He  lefte  his  captive  Beast  at  liberty, 
And  crost  the  nearest  way,  by  which  he  cast, 
Her  to  encounter  ere  she  passed  by ; 
But  she  the  way  shund  nathemore  forthy, 
But  forward  gallopt  fast ;  which  when  he  spyde, 
His  mighty  speare  he  couched  warily, 
And  at  her  ran :  she,  having  him  descryde, 
Her  selfe  to  fight  addrest,  and  threw  her  lode  aside. 


Book  III. 
Canto  VII. 




Book  III. 
Canto  VII. 

Like  as  a  Goshauke,  that  in  foote  doth  beare 
A  trembling  Culver,  having  spide  on  hight 
An  Eagle  that  with  plumy  wings  doth  sheare 
The  subtile  ayre  stouping  with  all  his  might, 
The  quarry  throwes  to  ground  with  fell  despight, 
And  to  the  batteill  doth  her  selfe  prepare : 
So  ran  the  Geauntesse  unto  the  fight 
Her  fyrie  eyes  with  furious  sparkes  did  stare, 
And  with  blasphemous  bannes  high  God  in  peeces  tare. 

She  caught  in  hand  an  huge  great  yron  mace, 
Wherewith  she  many  had  of  life  depriv'd ; 
But,  ere  the  stroke  could  seize  his  aymed  place, 
His  speare  amids  her  sun-brode  shield  arriv'd : 
Yet  nathemore  the  Steele  asonder  riv'd, 
All  were  the  beame  in  bignes  like  a  mast, 
Ne  her  out  of  the  stedfast  sadle  driv'd ; 
But,  glauncing  on  the  tempred  metall,  brast 
In  thousand  shivers,  and  so  forth  beside  her  past. 

Her  Steed  did  stagger  with  that  puissaunt  strooke  ; 
But  she  no  more  was  moved  with  that  might 
Then  it  had  lighted  on  an  aged  Oke, 
Or  on  the  marble  Pillour  that  is  pight 
Upon  the  top  of  Mount  Olympus  hight, 
For  the  brave  youthly  Champions  to  assay 
With  burning  charet  wheeles  it  nigh  to  smite ; 
But  who  that  smites  it  mars  his  joyous  play, 
And  is  the  spectacle  of  ruinous  decay. 


Yet,  therewith  sore  enrag'd,  with  sterne  regard  THE 
Her  dreadfull  weapon  she  to  him  addrest,  FAERIE 
Which  on  his  helmet  martelled  so  hard  '  hnkiu  E 

That  made  him  low  incline  his  lofty  crest,  Canto  VII. 

And  bowd  his  battred  visour  to  his  brest : 
Wherewith  he  was  so  stund  that  he  note  ryde, 
But  reeled  to  and  fro  from  east  to  west. 
.  Which  when  his  cruell  enimy  espyde, 
She  lightly  unto  him  adjoyned  syde  to  syde ; 

And,  on  his  collar  laying  puissaunt  hand, 
Out  of  his  wavering  seat  him  pluckt  perforse, 
Perforse  him  pluckt,  unable  to  withstand 
Or  helpe  himselfe ;  and  laying  thwart  her  horse, 
In  loathly  wise  like  to  a  carrion  corse, 
She  bore  him  fast  away.    Which  when  the  knight 
That  her  pursewed  saw,  with  great  remorse 
He  nere  was  touched  in  his  noble  spright, 
And  gan  encrease  his  speed  as  she  encreast  her  flight. 

Whom  when  as  nigh  approching  she  espyde, 

She  threw  away  her  burden  angrily ; 

F or  she  list  not  the  batteill  to  abide, 

But  made  her  selfe  more  light  away  to  fly  : 
Yet  her  the  hardy  knight  pursewd  so  nye 
That  almost  in  the  backe  he  oft  her  strake ; 
But  still,  when  him  at  hand  she  did  espy, 
She  turnd,  and  semblaunce  of  faire  fight  did  make 
it,  when  he  stayd,  to  flight  againe  she  did  her  take. 





Book  III. 
Canto  VII. 

By  this  the  good  Sir  Satyrane  gan  wake 
Out  of  his  dreame  that  did  him  long  entraunce, 
And,  seeing  none  in  place,  he  gan  to  make 
Exceeding  mone,  and  curst  that  cruell  chaunce 
Which  reft  from  him  so  faire  a  chevisaunce. 
At  length  he  spyde  whereas  that  wofull  Squyre, 
Whom  he  had  reskewed  from  captivaunce 
Of  his  strong  foe,  lay  tombled  in  the  myre, 
Unable  to  arise,  or  foote  or  hand  to  styre. 

To  whom  approching,  well  he  mote  perceive 
In  that  fowle  plight  a  comely  personage 
And  lovely  face,  made  fit  for  to  deceive 
Fraile  Ladies  hart  with  loves  consuming  rage, 
Now  in  the  blossome  of  his  freshest  age. 
He  reard  him  up  and  loosd  his  yron  bands, 
And  after  gan  inquire  his  parentage, 
And  how  he  fell  into  the  Gyaunts  hands, 
And  who  that  was  which  chaced  her  along  the  lands. 

Then  trembling  yet  through  feare  the  Squire  bespake : 
"  That  Geauntesse  Argante  is  behight, 
A  daughter  of  the  Titans  which  did  make 
Warre  against  heven,  and  heaped  hils  on  hight 
To  scale  the  skyes  and  put  Jove  from  his  right : 
Her  syre  Typhoeus  was ;  who,  mad  through  merth, 
And  dronke  with  blood  of  men  slaine  by  his  might, 
Through  incest  her  of  his  owne  mother  Earth 
Whylome  begot,  being  but  halfe  twin  of  that  berth  : 


"  For  at  that  berth  another  Babe  she  bore  ; 
To  weet,  the  mightie  Ollyphant,  that  wrought 
Great  wreake  to  many  errant  knights  of  yore, 
And  many  hath  to  foule  confusion  brought. 
These  twinnes,  men  say,  (a  thing  far  passing  thought) 
While  in  their  mothers  wombe  enclosd  they  were, 
Ere  they  into  the  lightsom  world  were  brought, 
In  fleshly  lust  were  mingled  both  yfere, 
And  in  that  monstrous  wise  did  to  the  world  appere. 

"  So  liv'd  they  ever  after  in  like  sin, 
Gainst  natures  law  and  good  behaveoure ; 
But  greatest  shame  was  to  that  maiden  twin, 
Who,  not  content  so  fowly  to  devoure 
Her  native  flesh  and  staine  her  brothers  bowre, 
Did  wallow  in  all  other  fleshly  myre, 
And  sufFred  beastes  her  body  to  deflowre, 
So  whot  she  burned  in  that  lustfull  fyre ; 
Yet  all  that  might  not  slake  her  sensuall  desyre  : 

"  But  over  all  the  countrie  she  did  raunge 
To  seeke  young  men  to  quench  her  flaming  thrust, 
And  feed  her  fancy  with  delightfull  chaunge  : 
Whom  so  she  fittest  Andes  to  serve  her  lust, 
Through  her  maine  strength,  in  which  she  most  doth  trust, 
She  with  her  bringes  into  a  secret  He, 
Where  in  eternall  bondage  dye  he  must, 
Or  be  the  vassall  of  her  pleasures  vile, 
And  in  all  shamefull  sort  him  selfe  with  her  defile.  " 

695  4  k 

Book  III. 
Canto  VII. 




Book  III. 
Canto  VII. 

"  Me,  seely  wretch,  she  so  at  vauntage  caught, 
After  she  long  in  waite  for  me  did  lye, 
And  meant  unto  her  prison  to  have  brought, 
Her  lothsom  pleasure  there  to  satisfye ; 
That  thousand  deathes  me  lever  were  to  dye 
Then  breake  the  vow  that  to  faire  Columbell 
I  plighted  have,  and  yet  keepe  stedfastly. 
As  for  my  name,  it  mistreth  not  to  tell : 
Call  me  the  Squyre  of  Dames ;  that  me  beseemeth  well. 

"  But  that  bold  knight,  whom  ye  pursuing  saw 
That  Geauntesse,  is  not  such  as  she  seemd, 
But  a  faire  virgin  that  in  martiall  law 
And  deedes  of  armes  above  all  Dames  is  deem'd, 
And  above  many  knightes  is  eke  esteemd 
For  her  great  worth :  She  Palladine  is  hight. 
She  you  from  death,  you  me  from  dread,  redeemd ; 
Ne  any  may  that  Monster  match  in  fight, 
But  she,  or  such  as  she,  that  is  so  chaste  a  wight." 

"  Her  well  beseemes  that  Quest,"  (quoth  Satyrane) 
«  But  read,  thou  Squyre  of  Dames,  what  vow  is  this, 
Which  thou  upon  thy  selfe  hast  lately  ta'ne  ? " 
"  That  shall  I  you  recount,"  (quoth  he)  "  ywis, 
So  be  ye  pleasd  to  pardon  all  amis. 
That  gentle  Lady  whom  I  love  and  serve, 
After  long  suit  and  wearie  servicis, 
Did  aske  me,  how  I  could  her  love  deserve, 
And  how  she  might  be  sure  that  I  would  never  swerve  ? 


"  I,  glad  by  any  meanes  her  grace  to  gaine, 
Badd  her  commaund  my  life  to  save  or  spill. 
Eftsoones  she  badd  me,  with  incessaunt  paine 
To  wander  through  the  world  abroad  at  will, 
And  every  where,  where  with  my  power  or  skill 
I  might  doe  service  unto  gentle  Dames, 
That  I  the  same  should  faithfully  fulfill ; 
And  at  the  twelve  monethes  end  should  bring  their  names 
And  pledges,  as  the  spoiles  of  my  victorious  games. 

Book  III. 
Canto  VII. 

"  So  well  I  to  faire  Ladies  service  did, 
And  found  such  favour  in  their  loving  hartes, 
That  ere  the  yeare  his  course  had  compassid, 
Thre  hundred  pledges  for  my  good  desartes, 
And  thrice  three  hundred  thanks  for  my  good  partes, 
I  with  me  brought,  and  did  to  her  present : 
Which  when  she  saw,  more  bent  to  eke  my  smartes 
Then  to  reward  my  trusty  true  intent, 
She  gan  for  me  devise  a  grievous  punishment ; 

"  To  weet,  that  I  my  traveill  should  resume, 
And  with  like  labour  walke  the  world  arownd, 
Ne  ever  to  her  presence  should  presume, 
Till  I  so  many  other  Dames  had  fownd, 
The  which,  for  all  the  suit  I  could  propownd, 
Would  me  refuse  their  pledges  to  afford, 
But  did  abide  for  ever  chaste  and  sownd." 
"  Ah !  gentle  Squyre,"  (quoth  he)  "  tell  at  one  word, 
How  many  fownd'st  thou  such  to  put  in  thy  record  ?  " 






Book  III. 
Canto  VII. 

"  Indeed,  Sir  knight,"  (said  he)  "  one  word  may  tell 
All  that  I  ever  fownd  so  wisely  stayd, 
For  onely  three  they  were  disposd  so  well ; 
And  yet  three  yeares  I  now  abrode  have  strayd, 
To  fynd  them  out."    "  Mote  I,"  (then  laughing  sayd 
The  knight)  "  inquire  of  thee  what  were  those  three, 
The  which  thy  proffred  curtesie  denayd  ? 
Or  ill  they  seemed  sure  avizd  to  bee, 
Or  brutishly  brought  up,  that  nev'r  did  fashions  see." 

"  The  first  which  then  refused  me,"  (said  hee) 
"  Certes  was  but  a  common  Courtisane  ; 
Yet  flat  refusd  to  have  adoe  with  mee, 
Because  I  could  not  give  her  many  a  Jane." 
(Thereat  full  hartely  laughed  Satyrane.) 
"  The  second  was  an  holy  Nunne  to  chose, 
Which  would  not  let  me  be  her  Chappellane, 
Because  she  knew,  she  said,  I  would  disclose 
Her  counsell,  if  she  should  her  trust  in  me  repose. 

"  The  third  a  Damzell  was  of  low  degree, 
Whom  I  in  countrey  cottage  fownd  by  chaunce  : 
Full  litle  weened  I  that  chastitee 
Had  lodging  in  so  meane  a  maintenaunce ; 
Yet  was  she  fayre,  and  in  her  countenaunce 
Dwelt  simple  truth  in  seemely  fashion. 
Long  thus  I  woo'd  her  with  due  observaunce, 
In  hope  unto  my  pleasure  to  have  won ; 
But  was  as  far  at  last,  as  when  I  first  begon. 


"  Safe  her,  I  never  any  woman  found 
That  chastity  did  for  it  selfe  embrace, 
But  were  for  other  causes  firme  and  sound ; 
Either  for  want  of  handsome  time  and  place, 
Or  else  for  feare  of  shame  and  fowle  disgrace. 
Thus  am  I  hopelesse  ever  to  attaine 
My  Ladies  love  in  such  a  desperate  case, 
But  all  my  dayes  am  like  to  waste  in  vaine, 
Seeking  to  match  the  chaste  with  th'unchaste  Ladies 

"  Perdy  "  (sayd  Satyrane)  «  thou  Squyre  of  Dames, 
Great  labour  fondly  hast  thou  hent  in  hand, 
To  get  small  thankes,  and  therewith  many  blames, 
That  may  emongst  Alcides  labours  stand." 
Thence  backe  returning  to  the  former  land, 
Where  late  he  left  the  Beast  he  overcame,  ' 
He  found  him  not ;  for  he  had  broke  his  band, 
And  was  returnd  againe  unto  his  Dame, 
To  tell  what  tydings  of  fayre  Florimell  became. 


Book  III. 
Canto  VII. 


O  OFT  as  I  this  history  record, 
My  heart  doth  melt  with  meere  compassion, 
To  thinke  how  causelesse,  of  her  owne  accord, 
This  gentle  Damzell,  whom  I  write  upon, 
Should  plonged  be  in  such  affliction 
Without  all  hope  of  comfort  or  reliefe  ; 

That  sure,  I  weene,  the  hardest  hart  of  stone 
Would  hardly  finde  to  aggravate  her  griefe ; 
F or  misery  craves  rather  mercy  then  repriefe. 

But  that  accursed  Hag,  her  hostesse  late, 
Had  so  enranckled  her  malitious  hart, 
That  she  desyrd  th'abridgement  of  her  fate, 
Or  long  enlargement  of  her  painefull  smart. 
Now  when  the  Beast,  which  by  her  wicked  art 
Late  foorth  she  sent,  she  backe  retourning  spyde 
Tyde  with  her  golden  girdle ;  it  a  part 
Of  her  rich  spoyles  whom  he  had  earst  destroyd 
She  weend,  and  wondrous  gladnes  to  her  hart  applyde. 





Book  lit 
Canto  VIII. 

And,  with  it  ronning  hast'ly  to  her  sonne, 
Thought  with  that  sight  him  much  to  have  reliv'd ; 
Who,  thereby  deeming  sure  the  thing  as  donne, 
His  former  griefe  with  furie  fresh  reviv'd 
Much  more  then  earst,  and  would  have  algates  riv'd 
The  hart  out  of  his  brest :  for  sith  her  dedd 
He  surely  dempt,  himselfe  he  thought  depriv'd 
Quite  of  all  hope  wherewith  he  long  had  fedd 
His  foolish  malady,  and  long  time  had  misledd. 

With  thought  whereof  exceeding  mad  he  grew, 
And  in  his  rage  his  mother  would  have  slaine, 
Had  she  not  fled  into  a  secret  mew, 
Where  she  was  wont  her  Sprightes  to  entertaine, 
The  maisters  of  her  art :  there  was  she  faine 
To  call  them  all  in  order  to  her  ayde, 
And  them  conjure,  upon  eternall  paine, 
To  counsell  her,  so  carefully  dismayd, 
How  she  might  heale  her  sonne  whose  senses  were  decayd 

By  their  advice,  and  her  owne  wicked  wit, 
She  there  deviz'd  a  wondrous  worke  to  frame, 
Whose  like  on  earth  was  never  framed  yit ; 
That  even  Nature  selfe  envide  the  same, 
And  grudg'd  to  see  the  counterfet  should  shame 
The  thing  it  selfe :  In  hand  she  boldly  tooke 
To  make  another  like  the  former  Dame, 
Another  Florimell,  in  shape  and  looke 
So  lively  and  so  like,  that  many  it  mistooke. 


The  substance,  whereof  she  the  body  made, 
Was  purest  snow  in  massy  mould  congeald, 
Which  she  had  gathered  in  a  shady  glade 
Of  the  Riphoean  hils,  to  her  reveald 
By  errant  Sprights,  but  from  all  men  conceald : 
The  same  she  tempred  with  fine  Mercury 
And  virgin  wex  that  never  yet  was  seald, 
And  mingled  them  with  perfecf  vermily ; 
That  like  a  lively  sanguine  it  seemd  to  the  eye. 

Instead  of  eyes  two  burning  lampes  she  set 
In  silver  sockets,  shyning  like  the  skyes, 
And  a  quicke  moving  Spirit  did  arret 
To  stirre  and  roll  them  like  to  womens  eyes  : 
Instead  of  yellow  lockes  she  did  devyse 
With  golden  wyre  to  weave  her  curled  head ; 
Yet  golden  wyre  was  not  so  yellow  thryse 
As  Florimells  fay  re  heare :  and,  in  the  stead 
Of  life,  she  put  a  Spright  to  rule  the  carcas  dead ; 

A  wicked  Spright,  yfraught  with  fawning  guyle 
And  fayre  resemblance  above  all  the  rest, 
Which  with  the  Prince  of  Darkenes  fell  somewhyle 
From  heavens  blis  and  everlasting  rest : 
Him  needed  not  instruct  which  way  were  best 
Him  selfe  to  fashion  likest  Florimell, 
Ne  how  to  speake,  ne  how  to  use  his  gest; 
For  he  in  counterfesaunce  did  excell, 
\nd  all  the  wyles  of  wemens  wits  knew  passing  well. 


Book  III. 
Canto  VIII. 

Book  III. 
Canto  VIII. 

Him  shaped  thus  she  deckt  in  garments  gay, 
Which  Florimell  had  left  behind  her  late ; 
That  who  so  then  her  saw  would  surely  say 
It  was  her  selfe  whom  it  did  imitate, 
Or  fayrer  then  her  selfe,  if  ought  algate 
Might  fayrer  be.    And  then  she  forth  her  brought 
Unto  her  sonne  that  lay  in  feeble  state ; 
Who  seeing  her  gan  streight  upstart,  and  thought 
She  was  the  Lady  selfe  whom  he  so  long  had  sought. 

Tho  fast  her  clipping  twixt  his  armes  twayne, 
Extremely  joyed  in  so  happy  sight, 
And  soone  forgot  his  former  sickely  payne : 
But  she,  the  more  to  seeme  such  as  she  hight, 
Coyly  rebutted  his  embracement  light ; 
Yet  still,  with  gentle  countenaunce,  retain'd 
Enough  to  hold  a  foole  in  vaine  delight. 
Him  long  she  so  with  shadowes  entertain'd, 
As  her  Creatresse  had  in  charge  to  her  ordain'd. 

Till  on  a  day,  as  he  disposed  was 
To  walke  the  woodes  with  that  his  Idole  faire, 
Her  to  disport  and  idle  time  to  pas 
In  th'open  freshnes  of  the  gentle  aire, 
A  knight  that  way  there  chaunced  to  repaire; 
Yet  knight  he  was  not,  but  a  boastfull  swaine 
That  deedes  of  armes  had  ever  in  despaire, 
Proud  Braggadocchio,  that  in  vaunting  vaine 
His  glory  did  repose,  and  credit  did  maintaine. 



He,  seeing  with  that  Chorle  so  faire  a  wight, 
Decked  with  many  a  costly  ornament, 
Much  merveiled  thereat,  as  well  he  might, 
And  thought  that  match  a  fowle  disparagement : 
His  bloody  speare  eftesoones  he  boldly  bent 
Against  the  silly  clowne,  who  dead  through  feare 
Fell  streight  to  ground  in  great  astonishment. 
"  Villein,"  (sayd  he)  "  this  Lady  is  my  deare ; 
Dy,  if  thou  it  gainesay:  I  will  away  her  beare." 

Book  III. 
Canto  VIII. 

The  fearefull  Chorle  durst  not  gainesay  nor  dooe, 

But  trembling  stood,  and  yielded  him  the  pray ;  ' 

Who,  finding  litle  leasure  her  to  wooe 

On  Tromparts  steed  her  mounted  without  stay, 

And  without  reskew  led  her  quite  away. 

Proud  man  himselfe  then  Braggadochio  deem'd, 

And  next  to  none  after  that  happy  day, 

Being  possessed  of  that  spoyle,  which  seem'd 

ie  fairest  wight  on  ground,  and  most  of  men  esteem'd. 

But,  when  hee  saw  him  selfe  free  from  poursute, 
He  gan  make  gentle  purpose  to  his  Dame 
With  termes  of  love  and  lewdnesse  dissolute ; 
For  he  could  well  his  glozing  speaches  frame 
To  such  vaine  uses  that  him  best  became  : 
But  she  thereto  would  lend  but  light  regard, 
As  seeming  sory  that  she  ever  came 
Into  his  powre,  that  used  her  so  hard 
o  reave  her  honor,  which  she  more  then  life  prefard. 





Book  III. 
Canto  VIII. 

Thus  as  they  two  of  kindnes  treated  long, 
There  them  by  chaunce  encountred  on  the  way 
An  armed  knight  upon  a  courser  strong, 
Whose  trampling  feete  upon  the  hollow  lay 
Seemed  to  thunder,  and  did  nigh  affray 
That  Capons  corage :  yet  he  looked  grim, 
And  faynd  to  cheare  his  lady  in  dismay, 
Who  seemd  for  feare  to  quake  in  every  lim, 
And  her  to  save  from  outrage  meekely  prayed  him. 

Fiercely  that  straunger  forward  came :  and,  nigh 
Approching,  with  bold  words  and  bitter  threat 
Bad  that  same  boaster,  as  he  mote,  on  high, 
To  leave  to  him  that  lady  for  excheat, 
Or  bide  him  batteill  without  further  treat. 
That  challenge  did  too  peremptory  seeme, 
And  fild  his  senses  with  abashment  great ; 
Yet  seeing  nigh  him  jeopardy  extreme, 
He  it  dissembled  well,  and  light  seemd  to  esteeme  ; 

Saying,  "  Thou  foolish  knight,  that  weenst  with  words 
To  steale  away  that  I  with  blowes  have  wonne, 
And  brought  through  points  of  many  perilous  swords  : 
But  if  thee  list  to  see  thy  Courser  ronne, 
Or  prove  thy  selfe,  this  sad  encounter  shonne, 
And  seeke  els  without  hazard  of  thy  hedd." 
At  those  prowd  words  that  other  knight  begonne 
To  wex  exceeding  wroth,  and  him  aredd 
To  turne  his  steede  about,  or  sure  he  should  be  dedd. 


"  Sith  then,"  (said  Braggadochio)  "  needes  thou  wilt 
Thy  daies  abridge  through  proofe  of  puissaunce, 
Turne  we  our  steeds ;  that  both  in  equall  tilt 
May  meete  againe,  and  each  take  happy  chaunce." 
This  said,  they  both  a  furlongs  mountenaunce 
Retird  their  steeds,  to  ronne  in  even  race ; 
But  Braggadochio,  with  his  bloody  launce, 
Once  having  turnd,  no  more  returnd  his  face, 
But  lefte  his  love  to  losse,  and  fled  him  selfe  apace. 

Book  III. 
Canto  VIII. 

The  knight,  him  seeing  flie,  had  no  regard 
Him  to  poursew,  but  to  the  lady  rode ; 
And  having  her  from  Trompart  lightly  reard, 
Upon  his  Courser  sett  the  lovely  lode, 
And  with  her  fled  away  without  abode. 
Well  weened  he,  that  fairest  Florimell 
It  was  with  whom  in  company  he  yode, 
And  so  her  selfe  did  alwaies  to  him  tell ; 
So  made  him  thinke  him  selfe  in  heven  that  was  in  hell. 

,  But  Florimell  her  selfe  was  far  away, 
Driven  to  great  distresse  by  fortune  straunge, 
And  taught  the  carefull  Mariner  to  play, 
Sith  late  mischaunce  had  her  compeld  to  chaunge 
The  land  for  sea,  at  randon  there  to  raunge : 
Yett  there  that  cruell  Queene  avengeresse, 
Not  satisfyde  so  far  her  to  estraunge 
From  courtly  blis  and  wonted  happinesse, 
Did  heape  on  her  new  waves  of  weary  wretchednesse. 





Book  III. 
Canto  VIII. 

For  being  fled  into  the  fishers  bote 
For  refuge  from  the  Monsters  cruelty, 
Long  so  she  on  the  mighty  maine  did  flote, 
And  with  the  tide  drove  forward  carelesly ; 
For  th'ayre  was  milde  and  cleared  was  the  skie, 
And  all  his  windes  Dan  Aeolus  did  keepe 
From  stirring  up  their  stormy  enmity, 
As  pittying  to  see  her  waile  and  weepe  : 
But  all  the  while  the  fisher  did  securely  sleepe. 

At  last  when  droncke  with  drowsinesse  he  woke, 
And  saw  his  drover  drive  along  the  streame, 
He  was  dismayd  ;  and  thrise  his  brest  he  stroke, 
For  marveill  of  that  accident  extreame : 
But  when  he  saw  that  blazing  beauties  beame, 
Which  with  rare  light  his  bote  did  beautifye, 
He  marveild  more,  and  thought  he  yet  did  dreame 
Not  well  awakte ;  or  that  some  extasye 
Assotted  had  his  sence,  or  dazed  was  his  eye. 

But  when  her  well  avizing  hee  perceiv'd 
To  be  no  vision  nor  fantasticke  sight, 
Great  comfort  of  her  presence  he  conceiv'd, 
And  felt  in  his  old  corage  new  delight 
To  gin  awake,  and  stir  his  frosen  spright : 
Tho  rudely  askte  her,  how  she  thither  came  ? 
"  Ah  !  "  (sayd  she)  "  father,  I  note  read  aright 
What  hard  misfortune  brought  me  to  this  same  ; 
Yet  am  I  glad  that  here  I  now  in  safety  ame. 


"  But  thou,  good  man,  sith  far  in  sea  we  bee, 
And  the  great  waters  gin  apace  to  swell, 
That  now  no  more  we  can  the  mayn-land  see, 
Have  care,  I  pray,  to  guide  the  cock-bote  well, 
Least  worse  on  sea  then  us  on  land  befell." 
Thereat  th'old  man  did  nought  but  fondly  grin, 
And  saide  his  boat  the  way  could  wisely  tell ; 
But  his  deceiptfull  eyes  did  never  lin 
To  looke  on  her  faire  face  and  marke  her  snowy  skin. 

Book  III. 
Canto  VIII. 

The  sight  whereof  in  his  congealed  flesh 
Infixt  such  secrete  sting  of  greedy  lust 
That  the  drie  withered  stocke  it  gan  refresh, 
And  kindled  heat  that  soone  in  flame  forth  brust  : 
The  driest  wood  is  soonest  burnt  to  dust. 
Rudely  to  her  he  lept,  and  his  rough  hond 
Where  ill  became  him  rashly  would  have  thrust ; 
But  she  with  angry  scorne  did  him  withstond, 
And  shamefully  reproved  for  his  rudenes  fond. 

But  he,  that  never  good  nor  maners  knew, 
Her  sharpe  rebuke  full  litle  did  esteeme ; 
Hard  is  to  teach  an  old  horse  amble  trew : 
The  inward  smoke,  that  did  before  but  steeme, 
Broke  into  open  fire  and  rage  extreme ; 
And  now  he  strength  gan  adde  unto  his  will, 
Forcyng  to  doe  that  did  him  fowle  misseeme. 
.    Beastly  he  threwe  her  downe,  ne  car'd  to  spill 
Her  garments  gay  with  scales  offish  that  all  did  fill. 



Book  III. 
Canto  VIII. 

The  silly  virgin  strove  him  to  withstand 
All  that  she  might,  and  him  in  vaine  revild : 
Shee  strugled  strongly  both  with  foote  and  hand 
To  save  her  honor  from  that  villaine  vilde, 
And  cride  to  heven,  from  humane  help  exild. 
O  !  ye  brave  knights,  that  boast  this  Ladies  love, 
Where  be  ye  now,  when  she  is  nigh  defild 
Of  filthy  wretch  ?  well  may  she  you  reprove 
Of  falsehood  or  of  slouth,  when  most  it  may  behove. 

But  if  that  thou,  Sir  Satyran,  didst  weete, 
Or  thou,  Sir  Peridure,  her  sory  state, 
How  soone  would  yee  assemble  many  a  fleete, 
To  fetch  from  sea  that  ye  at  land  lost  late ! 
Towres,  citties,  kingdomes,  ye  would  ruinate 
In  your  avengement  and  despiteous  rage, 
Ne  ought  your  burning  fury  mote  abate ; 
But  if  Sir  Calidore  could  it  presage, 
No  living  creature  could  his  cruelty  asswage. 

But  sith  that  none  of  all  her  knights  is  nye, 
See  how  the  heavens,  of  voluntary  grace 
And  soveraine  favor  towards  chastity, 
Doe  succor  send  to  her  distressed  cace ; 
So  much  high  God  doth  innocence  embrace. 
It  fortuned,  whilest  thus  she  stifly  strove, 
And  the  wide  sea  importuned  long  space 
With  shrilling  shriekes,  Proteus  abrode  did  rove, 
Along  the  fomy  waves  driving  his  finny  drove. 


Proteus  is  Shepheard  of  the  seas  of  yore, 
And  hath  the  charge  of  Neptunes  mighty  heard  ; 
An  aged  sire  with  head  all  frory  hore, 
And  sprinckled  frost  upon  his  deawy  beard : 
Who  when  those  pittifull  outcries  he  heard 
Through  all  the  seas  so  ruefully  resownd, 
His  charett  swifte  in  hast  he  thither  steard, 
Which  with  a  teeme  of  scaly  Phocas  bownd 
Was  drawne  upon  the  waves  that  fomed  him  arownd. 

And  comming  to  that  Fishers  wandring  bote, 
That  went  at  will  withouten  card  or  sayle, 
He  therein  saw  that  yrkesome  sight,  which  smote 
Deepe  indignation  and  compassion  frayle 
Into  his  hart  attonce :  streight  did  he  hayle 
The  greedy  villein  from  his  hoped  pray, 
Of  which  he  now  did  very  litle  fayle, 
And  with  his  staffe,  that  drives  his  heard  astray, 
Him  bett  so  sore,  that  life  and  sence  did  much  dismay. 

The  whiles  the  pitteous  Lady  up  did  ryse, 
Ruffled  and  fowly  raid  with  filthy  soyle, 
And  blubbred  face  with  teares  of  her  faire  eyes : 
Her  heart  nigh  broken  was  with  weary  toyle, 
To  save  her  selfe  from  that  outrageous  spoyle ; 
But  when  she  looked  up,  to  weet  what  wight 
Had  her  from  so  infamous  facf  assoyld, 
For  shame,  but  more  for  feare  of  his  grim  sight, 
Downe  in  her  lap  she  hid  her  face,  and  lowdly  shright. 

7I3  4  m 

Book  III. 
Canto  VIII 




Book  III. 
Canto  VIII. 

Her  selfe  not  saved  yet  from  daunger  dredd 
She  thought,  but  chaung'd  from  one  to  other  feare : 
Like  as  a  fearefull  partridge,  that  is  fledd 
From  the  sharpe  hauke  which  her  attached  neare, 
And  fals  to  ground  to  seeke  for  succor  theare, 
Whereas  the  hungry  Spaniells  she  does  spye 
With  greedy  jawes  her  ready  for  to  teare  : 
In  such  distresse  and  sad  perplexity 
Was  Florimell,  when  Proteus  she  did  see  her  by. 

But  he  endevored  with  speaches  milde 
Her  to  recomfort,  and  accourage  bold, 
Bidding  her  feare  no  more  her  foeman  vilde, 
Nor  doubt  himselfe ;  and  who  he  was  her  told : 
Yet  all  that  could  not  from  affright  her  hold, 
Ne  to  recomfort  her  at  all  prevayld ; 
For  her  faint  hart  was  with  the  frosen  cold 
Benumbd  so  inly,  that  her  wits  nigh  fayld, 
And  all  her  sences  with  abashment  quite  were  quayld. 

Her  up  betwixt  his  rugged  hands  he  reard, 
And  with  his  frory  lips  full  softly  kist, 
Whiles  the  cold  ysickles  from  his  rough  beard 
Dropped  adowne  upon  her  yvory  brest : 
Yet  he  him  selfe  so  busily  addrest, 
That  her  out  of  astonishment  he  wrought ; 
And  out  of  that  same  fishers  filthy  nest 
Removing  her,  into  his  charet  brought, 
And  there  with  many  gentle  termes  her  faire  besought. 


But  that  old  leachour,  which  with  bold  assault 
That  beautie  durst  presume  to  violate, 
He  cast  to  punish  for  his  hainous  fault : 
Then  tooke  he  him,  yet  trembling  sith  of  late, 
And  tyde  behind  his  charet,  to  aggrate 
The  virgin  whom  he  had  abusde  so  sore ; 
So  drag'd  him  through  the  waves  in  scornfull  state, 
And  after  cast  him  up  upon  the  shore ; 
But  Florimell  with  him  unto  his  bowre  he  bore. 

Book  III. 
Canto  VIII. 

His  bowre  is  in  the  bottom  of  the  maine, 
Under  a  mightie  rocke,  gainst  which  doe  rave 
The  roring  billowes  in  their  proud  disdaine 
That  with  the  angry  working  of  the  wave 
Therein  is  eaten  out  an  hollow  cave, 
That  seemes  rough  Masons  hand  with  engines  keene 
Had  long  while  laboured  it  to  engrave : 
There  was  his  wonne ;  ne  living  wight  was  seene 
Save  one  old  Nymph,  hight  Panope,  to  keepe  it  cleane. 

Thither  he  brought  the  sory  Florimell, 
And  entertained  her  the  best  he  might, 
And  Panope  her  entertaind  eke  well, 
As  an  immortall  mote  a  mortall  wight, 
To  winne  her  liking  unto  his  delight : 
With  flattering  wordes  he  sweetly  wooed  her, 
And  offered  faire  guiftes  t'allure  her  sight ; 
But  she  both  offers  and  the  offerer 
Despysde,  and  all  the  fawning  of  the  flatterer. 


JL.  .. 




Book  III. 
Canto  VIII. 

Dayly  he  tempted  her  with  this  or  that, 
And  never  suffred  her  to  be  at  rest ; 
But  evermore  she  him  refused  flat, 
And  all  his  fained  kindnes  did  detest, 
So  firmely  she  had  sealed  up  her  brest. 
Sometimes  he  boasted  that  a  God  he  hight, 
But  she  a  mortall  creature  loved  best : 
Then  he  would  make  him  selfe  a  mortall  wight ; 
But  then  she  said  she  lov'd  none,  but  a  Faery  knight. 

Then  like  a  Faerie  knight  him  selfe  he  drest, 
For  every  shape  on  him  he  could  endew ; 
Then  like  a  king  he  was  to  her  exprest, 
And  ofFred  kingdoms  unto  her  in  vew, 
To  be  his  Leman  and  his  Lady  trew : 
But  when  all  this  he  nothing  saw  prevaile, 
With  harder  meanes  he  cast  her  to  subdew, 
And  with  sharpe  threates  her  often  did  assayle ; 
So  thinking  for  to  make  her  stubborne  corage  quayle. 

To  dreadfull  shapes  he  did  him  selfe  transforme ; 
Now  like  a  Gyaunt ;  now  like  to  a  feend ; 
Then  like  a  Centaure ;  then  like  to  a  storme 
Raging  within  the  waves :  thereby  he  weend 
Her  will  to  win  unto  his  wished  eend ; 
But  when  with  feare,  nor  favour,  nor  with  all 
He  els  could  doe,  he  saw  him  selfe  esteemd, 
Downe  in  a  Dongeon  deepe  he  let  her  fall, 
And  threatned  there  to  make  her  his  eternall  thrall. 


Eternall  thraldome  was  to  her  more  liefe 
Then  losse  of  chastitie,  or  chaunge  of  love  : 
Dye  had  she  rather  in  tormenting  griefe 
Then  any  should  of  falsenesse  her  reprove, 
Or  loosenes,  that  she  lightly  did  remove.' 
Most  vertuous  virgin  !  glory  be  thy  meed, 
And  crowne  of  heavenly  prayse  with  Saintes  above, 
Where  most  sweet  hymmes  of  this  thy  famous  deed 
Are  still  emongst  them  song,  that  far  my  rymes  exceed. 




Book  III. 
Canto  VIII. 

Fit  song  of  Angels  caroled  to  bee  ! 
But  yet  whatso  my  feeble  Muse  can  frame 
Shal  be  t' advance  thy  goodly  chastitee 
And  to  enroll  thy  memorable  name 
In  th'  heart  of  every  honourable  Dame, 
That  they  thy  vertuous  deedes  may  imitate, 
And  be  partakers  of  thy  endlesse  fame. 
Yt  yrkes  me  leave  thee  in  this  wofull  state, 
To  tell  of  Satyrane  where  I  him  left  of  late. 

Who  having  ended  with  that  Squyre  of  Dam^s 
A  long  discourse  of  his  adventures  vayne, 
The  which  himselfe  then  Ladies  more  defames, 
And  finding  not  th'  Hyena  to  be  slayne, 
With  that  same  Squyre  retourned  back  againe 
To  his  first  way.    And,  as  they  forward  went, 
They  spyde  a  knight  fayre  pricking  on  the  playne, 
As  if  he  were  on  some  adventure  bent, 
And  in  his  port  appeared  manly  hardiment. 





Book  III. 
Canto  VIII. 

Sir  Satyrane  him  towardes  did  addresse, 
To  weet  what  wight  he  was,  and  what  his  quest; 
And,  comming  nigh,  eftsoones  he  gan  to  gesse, 
Both  by  the  burning  hart  which  on  his  brest 
He  bare,  and  by  the  colours  in  his  crest, 
That  Paridell  it  was.    Tho  to  him  yode, 
And  him  saluting  as  beseemed  best, 
Gan  first  inquire  of  tydinges  farre  abrode, 
And  afterwardes  on  what  adventure  now  he  rode. 

Who  thereto  answering  said:  "The  tydinges  bad, 
Which  now  in  Faery  court  all  men  doe  tell, 
Which  turned  hath  great  mirth  to  mourning  sad, 
Is  the  late  ruine  of  proud  Marinell, 
And  suddein  parture  of  faire  Florimell 
To  find  him  forth :  and  after  her  are  gone 
All  the  brave  knightes  that  doen  in  armes  excell 
To  savegard  her  ywandred  all  alone : 
Emongst  the  rest  my  lott  (unworthy')  is  to  be  one." 

"  Ah !  gentle  knight,"  (said  then  Sir  Satyrane) 
"  Thy  labour  all  is  lost,  I  greatly  dread, 
That  hast  a  thanklesse  service  on  thee  ta'ne, 
And  offrest  sacrifice  unto  the  dead : 
For  dead,  I  surely  doubt,  thou  maist  aread 
Henceforth  for  ever  Florimell  to  bee ; 
That  all  the  noble  knights  of  Maydenhead, 
Which  her  ador'd,  may  sore  repent  with  mee, 
And  all  faire  Ladies  may  for  ever  sory  bee." 


Which  wordes  when  Paridell  had  heard,  his  hew 
Gan  greatly  chaunge  and  seemd  dismaid  to  bee ; 
Then  said  :  "  Fayre  Sir,  how  may  I  weene  it  trew, 
That  ye  doe  tell  in  such  uncerteintee  ? 
Or  speake  ye  of  report,  or  did  ye  see 
Just  cause  of  dread,  that  makes  ye  doubt  so  sore  ? 
For,  perdie,  elles  how  mote  it  ever  bee 
That  ever  hand  should  dare  for  to  engore 
Her  noble  blood  ?  The  hevens  such  crueltie  abhore." 

"  These  eyes  did  see  that  they  will  ever  rew 
T  have  seene,"  (quoth  he)  "  when  as  a  monstrous  beast 
The  Palfrey  whereon  she  did  travell  slew, 
And  of  his  bowels  made  his  bloody  feast : 
Which  speaking  token  sheweth  at  the  least 
Her  certeine  losse,  if  not  her  sure  decay : 
Besides,  that  more  suspicion  encreast, 
I  found  her  golden  girdle  cast  astray, 
Distaynd  with  durt  and  blood,  as  relique  of  the  pray." 

"  Ay  me !  "  (said  Paridell)  « the  signes  be  sadd ; 
And,  but  God  turne  the  same  to  good  sooth-say, 
That  Ladies  safetie  is  sore  to  be  dradd : 
Yet  will  I  not  forsake  my  forward  way, 
Till  triall  doe  more  certeine  truth  bewray." 
"  Faire  Sir,"  (quoth  he)  "  well  may  it  you  succeed ! 
Ne  long  shall  Satyrane  behind  you  stay, 
But  to  the  rest,  which  in  this  Quest  proceed, 
My  labour  adde,  and  be  partaker  of  their  speed." 


Book  III. 
Canto  VIII. 




Book  III. 
Canto  VIII. 

"Ye  noble  knights,"  (said  then  the  Squyre  of  Dames) 
"  Well  may  yee  speede  in  so  praiseworthy  payne ! 
But  sith  the  Sunne  now  ginnes  to  slake  his  beames 
In  deawy  vapours  of  the  westerne  mayne, 
And  lose  the  teme  out  of  his  weary  wayne, 
Mote  not  mislike  you  also  to  abate 
Your  zealous  hast,  till  morrow  next  againe 
Both  light  of  heven  and  strength  of  men  relate  : 
Which  if  ye  please,  to  yonder  castle  turne  your  gate." 

That  counsell  pleased  well :  so  all  yfere 
Forth  marched  to  a  Castle  them  before ; 
Where  soone  arryving  they  restrained  were 
Of  ready  entraunce,  which  ought  evermore 
To  errant  knights  be  commune :  wondrous  sore 
Thereat  displeasd  they  were,  till  that  young  Squyre 
Gan  them  informe  the  "cause,  why  that  same  dore 
Was  shut  to  all  which  lodging  did  desyre  : 
The  which  to  let  you  weet  will  further  time  requyre. 

EDOUBTED  knights,  and  honorable  Dames, 
To  whom  I  levell  all  my  labours  end, 
Right  sore  I  feare,  least  with  unworthie  blames 
This  odious  argument  my  rymes  should  shend, 
Or  ought  your  goodly  patience  offend, 
Whiles  of  a  wanton  Lady  I  doe  write, 
'Which  with  her  loose  incontinence  doth  blend 
The  shyning  glory  of  your  soveraine  light ; 
And  knighthood  fowle  defaced  by  a  faithlesse  knight. 

But  never  let  th'ensample  of  the  bad 
Offend  the  good ;  for  good,  by  paragone 
Of  evill,  may  more  notably  be  rad, 
As  white  seemes  fayrer  macht  with  blacke  attone ; 
Ne  all  are  shamed  by  the  fault  of  one  : 
For  lo!  in  heven,  whereas  all  goodnes  is, 
Emongst  the  Angels,  a  whole  legione 
Of  wicked  Sprightes  did  fall  from  happy  blis ; 
What  wonder  then  if  one,  of  women  all,  did  mis  ? 


4  N 

J  I 




Book  III. 
Canto  IX. 

Then  listen,  Lordings,  if  ye  list  to  weet 
The  cause  why  Satyrane  and  Paridell 
Mote  not  be  entertaynd,  as  seemed  meet, 
Into  that  Castle,  (as  that  Squyre  does  tell.) 
"  Therein  a  cancred  crabbed  Carle  does  dwell, 
That  has  no  skill  of  Court  nor  courtesie, 
Ne  cares  what  men  say  of  him,  ill  or  well ; 
For  all  his  dayes  he  drownes  in  privitie, 
Yet  has  full  large  to  live  and  spend  at  libertie. 

"  But  all  his  minde  is  set  on  mucky  pelfe, 
To  hoord  up  heapes  of  evill  gotten  masse, 
For  which  he  others  wrongs,  and  wreckes  himselfe : 
Yet  is  he  lincked  to  a  lovely  lasse, 
Whose  beauty  doth  her  bounty  far  surpasse ; 
The  which  to  him  both  far  unequall  yeares, 
And  also  far  unlike  conditions  has ; 
For  she  does  joy  to  play  emongst  her  peares, 
And  to  be  free  from  hard  restraynt  and  gealous  feares. 

"  But  he  is  old,  and  withered  like  hay, 
Unfit  faire  Ladies  service  to  supply ; 
The  privie  guilt  whereof  makes  him  alway 
Suspeft  her  truth,  and  keepe  continuall  spy 
Upon  her  with  his  other  blincked  eye ; 
Ne  suffreth  he,  resort  of  living  wight 
Approch  to  her,  ne  keepe  her  company, 
But  in  close  bowre  her  mewes  from  all  mens  sight, 
Depriv'd  of  kindly  joy  and  naturall  delight. 


"  Malbecco  he,  and  Hellenore  she  hight ; 
Unfitly  yokt  together  in  one  teeme. 
That  is  the  cause  why  never  any  knight 
Is  suffred  here  to  enter,  but  he  seeme 
Such  as  no  doubt  of  him  he  neede  misdeeme." 
Thereat  Sir  Satyrane  gan  smyle,  and  say ; 
"  Extremely  mad  the  man  I  surely  deeme, 
That  weenes  with  watch  and  hard  restraynt  to  stay 
A  womans  will,  which  is  disposd  to  go  astray. 

"  In  vaine  he  feares  that  which  he  cannot  shonne  ; 
For  who  wotes  not,  that  womans  subtiltyes 
Can  guylen  Argus,  when  she  list  misdonne  ? 
It  is  not  yron  bandes,  nor  hundred  eyes, 
Nor  brasen  walls,  nor  many  wakefull  spyes, 
That  can  withhold  her  wilfull  wandring  feet ; 
But  fast  goodwill,  with  gentle  courtesyes, 
And  timely  service  to  her  pleasures  meet, 
May  her  perhaps  containe,  that  else  would  algates  fleet." 

"  Then  is  he  not  more  mad,"  (sayd  Paridell) 
"  That  hath  himselfe  unto  such  service  sold, 
In  dolefull  thraldome  all  his  dayes  to  dwell  ? 
For  sure  a  foole  I  doe  him  firmely  hold, 
That  loves  his  fetters,  though  they  were  of  gold. 
But  why  doe  wee  devise  of  others  ill, 
Whyles  thus  we  suffer  this  same  dotard  old 
To  keepe  us  out  in  scorne,  of  his  owne  will, 
And  rather  do  not  ransack  all,  and  him  selfe  kill  ? " 


Book  III. 
Canto  IX. 

"  Nay,  let  us  first "  (sayd  Satyrane)  "  entreat 
The  man  by  gentle  meanes  to  let  us  in, 
And  afterwardes  affray  with  cruell  threat, 
Ere  that  we  to  effbrce  it  doe  begin : 
Then,  if  all  fayle,  we  will  by  force  it  win, 
And  eke  reward  the  wretch  for  his  mesprise, 
As  may  be  worthy  of  his  haynous  sin." 
That  counsell  pleasd :  then  Paridell  did  rise 
And  to  the  Castle  gate  approcht  in  quiet  wise. 

Whereat  soft  knocking  entrance  he  desyrd. 
The  good  man  selfe,  which  then  the  Porter  playd, 
Him  answered,  that  all  were  now  retyrd 
Unto  their  rest,  and  all  the  keyes  convayd 
Unto  their  maister,  who  in  bed  was  layd, 
That  none  him  durst  awake  out  of  his  dreme ; 
And  therefore  them  of  patience  gently  prayd. 
Then  Paridell  began  to  chaunge  his  theme, 
And  threatned  him  with  force  and  punishment  extreme 

But  all  in  vaine,  for  nought  mote  him  relent. 
And  now  so  long  before  the  wicket  fast 
They  wayted,  that  the  night  was  forward  spent, 
And  the  faire  welkin  fowly  overcast 
Gan  blowen  up  a  bitter  stormy  blast, 
With  showre  and  hayle  so  horrible  and  dred, 
That  this  faire  many  were  compeld  at  last 
To  fly  for  succour  to  a  little  shed, 
The  which  beside  the  gate  for  swyne  was  ordered. 


It  fortuned,  soone  after  they  were  gone, 
Another  knight,  whom  tempest  thither  brought, 
Came  to  that  Castle,  and  with  earnest  mone, 
Like  as  the  rest,  late  entrance  deare  besought : 
But,  like  so  as  the  rest,  he  prayd  for  nought ; 
For  flatly  he  of  entrance  was  refusd. 
Sorely  thereat  he  was  displeased,  and  thought 
How  to  avenge  himselfe  so  sore  abusd, 
And  evermore  the  Carle  of  courtesie  accusd. 

But,  to  avoyde  th'  intolerable  stowre, 
He  was  compeld  to  seeke  some  refuge  neare, 
And  to  that  shed,  to  shrowd  him  from  the  showre, 
He  came,  which  full  of  guests  he  found  whyleare, 
So  as  he  was  not  let  to  enter  there  : 
Whereat  he  gan  to  wex  exceeding  wroth, 
And  swore  that  he  would  lodge  with  them  yfere, 
Or  them  dislodge,  all  were  they  liefe  or  loth ; 
And  so  defyde  them  each,  and  so  defyde  them  both. 

Both  were  full  loth  to  leave  that  needfull  tent, 
And  both  full  loth  in  darkenesse  to  debate ; 
Yet  both  full  liefe  him  lodging  to  have  lent, 
And  both  full  liefe  his  boasting  to  abate : 
But  chiefely  Paridell  his  hart  did  grate 
To  heare  him  threaten  so  despightfully, 
As  if  he  did  a  dogge  in  kenell  rate 
That  durst  not  barke ;  and  rather  had  he  dy 
Then,  when  he  was  defyde,  in  coward  corner  ly. 





Book  III. 
Canto  IX. 

Tho  hastily  remounting  to  his  steed 
He  forth  issew'd :  like  as  a  boystrous  winde, 
Which  in  th'earthes  hollow  caves  hath  long  ben  hid 
And  shut  up  fast  within  her  prisons  blind, 
Makes  the  huge  element,  against  her  kinde, 
To  move  and  tremble  as  it  were  aghast, 
Untill  that  it  an  issew  forth  may  finde  : 
Then  forth  it  breakes,  and  with  his  furious  blast 
Confounds  both  land  and  seas,  and  skyes  doth  overcast. 

Their  steel-hed  speares  they  strongly  coucht,  and  met 
Together  with  impetuous  rage  and  forse, 
That  with  the  terrour  of  their  fierce  affret 
They  rudely  drove  to  ground  both  man  and  horse, 
That  each  awhile  lay  like  a  sencelesse  corse. 
But  Paridell  sore  brused  with  the  blow 
Could  not  arise  the  counterchaunge  to  scorse, 
Till  that  young  Squyre  him  reared  from  below ; 
Then  drew  he  his  bright  sword,  and  gan  about  him  throw. 

But  Satyrane  forth  stepping  did  them  stay, 
And  with  faire  treaty  pacifide  their  yre. 
Then,  when  they  were  accorded  from  the  fray, 
Against  that  Castles  Lord  they  gan  conspire, 
To  heape  on  him  dew  vengeaunce  for  his  hire. 
They  beene  agreed ;  and  to  the  gates  they  goe 
To  burn  the  same  with  unquenchable  fire, 
And  that  uncurteous  Carle,  their  commune  foe, 
To  doe  fowle  death  to  die,  or  wrap  in  grievous  woe. 


Malbecco,  seeing  them  resolvd  indeed  THE 
To  flame  the  gates,  and  hearing  them  to  call  FAERIE 
For  fire  in  earnest,  ran  with  fearfull  speed,  „   ,  TTI 

A     J  1  .1-        r  "  Book  III. 

And  to  them  calling  from  the  castle  wall,  Canto  IX. 

Besought  them  humbly  him  to  beare  withall, 
As  ignorant  of  servants  bad  abuse 
And  slacke  attendaunce  unto  straungers  call. 
The  knights  were  willing  all  things  to  excuse, 
Though  nought  belev'd,  and  entraunce  late  did  not  refuse. 

They  beene  ybrought  into  a  comely  bowre, 
And  servd  of  all  things  that  mote  needfull  bee  ; 
Yet  secretly  their  hoste  did  on  them  lowre, 
And  welcomde  more  for  feare  then  charitee ; 
But  they  dissembled  what  they  did  not  see, 
And  welcomed  themselves.    Each  gan  undight 
Their  garments  wett,  and  weary  armour  free, 
To  dry  them  selves  by  Vulcanes  flaming  light, 
And  eke  their  lately  bruzed  parts  to  bring  in  plight. 

And  eke  that  straunger  knight  emongst  the  rest 
Was  for  like  need  enforst  to  disaray  : 
Tho,  whenas  vailed  was  her  lofty  crest, 
Her  golden  locks,  that  were  in  trammells  gay 
Upbounden,  did  them  selves  adowne  display 
And  raught  unto  her  heeles ;  like  sunny  beames, 
That  in  a  cloud  their  light  did  long  time  stay, 
Their  vapour  vaded,  shewe  their  golden  gleames, 
And  through  the  persant  aire  shoote  forth  their  azure  streames. 


Shee  also  dofte  her  heavy  haberjeon, 
Which  the  faire  feature  of  her  limbs  did  hyde ; 
And  her  well-plighted  frock,  which  she  did  won 
To  tucke  about  her  short  when  she  did  ryde, 
Shee  low  let  fall,  that  flowd  from  her  lanck  syde 
Downe  to  her  foot  with  carelesse  modestee. 
Then  of  them  all  she  plainly  was  espyde 
To  be  a  woman-wight,  unwist  to  bee, 
The  fairest  woman-wight  that  ever  eie  did  see. 

Like  as  Bellona  (being  late  returnd 
From  slaughter  of  the  Giaunts  conquered : 
Where  proud  Encelade,  whose  wide  nosethrils  burnd 
With  breathed  flames,  like  to  a  furnace  redd, 
Transfixed  with  her  speare  downe  tombled  dedd 
From  top  of  Hemus  by  him  heaped  hye ;) 
Hath  loosd  her  helmet  from  her  lofty  hedd, 
And  her  Gorgonian  shield  gins  to  untye 
From  her  lefte  arme,  to  rest  in  glorious  victorye. 

Which  whenas  they  beheld,  they  smitten  were 
With  great  amazement  of  so  wondrous  sight ; 
And  each  on  other,  and  they  all  on  her, 
Stood  gazing,  as  if  suddein  great  affright 
Had  them  surprizd.    At  last,  avizing  right 
Her  goodly  personage  and  glorious  hew, 
Which  they  so  much  mistooke,  they  tooke  delight 
In  their  first  error,  and  yett  still  anew 
With  wonder  of  her  beauty  fed  their  hongry  vew. 





Book  III. 
Canto  IX. 


Yet  note  their  hongry  vew  be  satisfide, 
But  seeing  still  the  more  desir'd  to  see, 
And  ever  flrmely  fixed  did  abide 
In  contemplation  of  divinitee  : 
But  most  they  mervaild  at  her  chevalree 
And  noble  prowesse,  which  they  had  approv'd, 
That  much  they  faynd  to  know  who  she  mote  bee ; 
Yet  none  of  all  them  her  thereof  amov'd, 
Yet  every  one  her  likte,  and  every  one  her  lov'd. 

And  Paridell,  though  partly  discontent 
With  his  late  fall  and  fowle  indignity, 
Yet  was  soone  wonne  his  malice  to  relent, 
Through  gratious  regard  of  her  faire  eye, 
And  knightly  worth  which  he  too  late  did  try, 
Yet  tried  did  adore.    Supper  was  dight ; 
Then  they  Malbecco  prayd  of  courtesy, 
That  of  his  lady  they  might  have  the  sight 
And  company  at  meat,  to  doe  them  more  delight. 

But  he,  to  shifte  their  curious  request, 
Gan  causen  why  she  could  not  come  in  place  ; 
Her  erased  helth,  her  late  recourse  to  rest, 
And  humid  evening  ill  for  sicke  folkes  cace ; 
But  none  of  those  excuses  could  take  place, 
Ne  would  they  eate  till  she  in  presence  came. 
Shee  came  in  presence  with  right  comely  grace, 
And  fairely  them  saluted,  as  became, 
And  shewd  her  selfe  in  all  a  gentle  courteous  Dame. 

731  4° 

Book  III. 
Canto  IX. 

THE  They  sate  to  meat ;  and  Satyrane  his  chaunce 

^j^-Sp  Was  ner  before,  and  Paridell  beside ; 

Book  III  ^ut  ^e         selfe  sate  looking  still  askaunce 

Canto  IX.  Gainst  Britomart,  and  ever  closely  eide 

Sir  Satyrane,  that  glaunces  might  not  glide : 
But  his  blinde  eie,  that  sided  Paridell, 
All  his  demeasnure  from  his  sight  did  hide  : 
On  her  faire  face  so  did  he  feede  his  fill, 
And  sent  close  messages  of  love  to  her  at  will. 

And  ever  and  anone,  when  none  was  ware, 
With  speaking  lookes,  that  close  embassage  bore 
He  rov'd  at  her,  and  told  his  secret  care ; 
For  all  that  art  he  learned  had  of  yore  : 
Ne  was  she  ignoraunt  of  that  leud  lore, 
But  in  his  eye  his  meaning  wisely  redd, 
And  with  the  like  him  aunswerd  evermore. 
Shee  sent  at  him  one  fyrie  dart,  whose  hedd 
Empoisned  was  with  privy  lust  and  gealous  dredd. 

He  from  that  deadly  throw  made  no  defence, 
But  to  the  wound  his  weake  heart  opened  wyde 
The  wicked  engine  through  false  influence 
Past  through  his  eies,  and  secretly  did  glyde 
Into  his  heart,  which  it  did  sorely  gryde. 
But  nothing  new  to  him  was  that  same  paine, 
Ne  paine  at  all ;  for  he  so  ofte  had  tryde 
The  powre  thereof,  and  lov'd  so  oft  in  vaine, 
That  thing  of  course  he  counted  love  to  entertaine. 

73?  . 

Thenceforth  to  her  he  sought  to  intimate 
His  inward  griefe,  by  meanes  to  him  well  knowne 
Now  Bacchus  fruit  out  of  the  silver  plate 
He  on  the  table  dasht,  as  overthrowne, 
Or  of  the  fruitfull  liquor  overflowne  ; 
And  by  the  dauncing  bubbles  did  divine, 
Or  therein  write  to  lett  his  love  be  showne ; 
Which  well  she  redd  out  of  the  learned  line  : 
A  sacrament  prophane  in  mistery  of  wine. 

And,  when  so  of  his  hand  the  pledge  she  raught, 
The  guilty  cup  she  fained  to  mistake, 
And  in  her  lap  did  shed  her  idle  draught, 
Shewing  desire  her  inward  flame  to  slake. 
By  such  close  signes  they  secret  way  did  make 
Unto  their  wils,  and  one  eies  watch  escape : 
Two  eies  he  needeth,  for  to  watch  and  wake, 
Who  lovers  will  deceive.    Thus  was  the  ape, 
By  their  faire  handling,  put  into  Malbeccoes  cape. 

Now,  when  of  meats  and  drinks  they  had  their  fill, 
Purpose  was  moved  by  that  gentle  Dame 
Unto  those  knights  adventurous,  to  tell 
Of  deeds  of  armes  which  unto  them  became, 
And  every  one  his  kindred  and  his  name. 
Then  Paridell,  in  whom  a  kindly  pride 
Of  gratious  speach  and  skill  his  words  to  frame 
Abounded,  being  glad  of  so  fitte  tide 
Him  to  commend  to  her,  thus  spake,  of  al  well  eide. 


Book  III. 
Canto  IX. 

"  Troy,  that  art  now  nought  but  an  idle  name, 
And  in  thine  ashes  buried  low  dost  lie, 
Though  whilome  far  much  greater  then  thy  fame, 
Before  that  angry  Gods  and  cruell  slue 
Upon  thee  heapt  a  direfull  destinie ; 
What  boots  it  boast  thy  glorious  descent, 
And  fetch  from  heven  thy  great  genealogie, 
Sith  all  thy  worthie  prayses  being  blent 
Their  ofspring  hath  embaste,  and  later  glory  shent  ? 

"  Most  famous  Worthy  of  the  world,  by  whome 
That  warre  was  kindled  which  did  Troy  inflame, 
And  stately  towres  of  Ilion  whilome 
Brought  unto  balefull  ruine,  was  by  name 
Sir  Paris  far  renowmd  through  noble  fame  ; 
Who,  through  great  prowesse  and  bold  hardinesse, 
From  Lacedaemon  fetcht  the  fayrest  Dame 
That  ever  Greece  did  boast,  or  knight  possesse, 
Whom  Venus  to  him  gave  for  meed  of  worthinesse ; 

"  Fayre  Helene,  flowre  of  beautie  excellent, 
And  girlond  of  the  mighty  Conquerours, 
That  madest  many  Ladies  deare  lament 
The  heavie  losse  of  their  brave  Paramours, 
Which  they  far  off  beheld  from  Trojan  toures, 
And  saw  the  fieldes  of  faire  Scamander  strowne 
With  carcases  of  noble  warrioures 
Whose  fruitlesse  lives  were  under  furrow  sowne, 
And  Xanthus  sandy  bankes  with  blood  all  overflowne. 


"  From  him  my  linage  I  derive  aright, 
Who  long  before  the  ten  yeares  siege  of  Troy, 
Whiles  yet  on  Ida  he  a  shepeheard  hight, 
On  faire  Oenone  got  a  lovely  boy, 
Whom,  for  remembrance  of  her  passed  joy, 
She,  of  his  Father,  Parius  did  name ; 
Who,  after  Greekes  did  Priams  realme  destroy, 
Gathred  the  Trojan  reliques  sav'd  from  flame, 
And  with  them  sayling  thence  to  th'  isle  of  Paros  came. 

Book  HI; 
Canto  IX. 

"  That  was  by  him  cald  Paros,  which  before 
Hight  Nausa :  there  he  many  yeares  did  raine, 
And  built  Nausicle  by  the  Pontick  shore ; 
The  which  he  dying  lefte  next  in  remaine 
To  Paridas  his  sonne, 
From  whom  I  Paridell  by  kin  descend  : 
But,  for  faire  ladies  love  and  glories  gaine, 
My  native  soile  have  lefte,  my  dayes  to  spend 
In  seewing  deeds  of  armes,  my  lives  and  labors  end." 

Whenas  the  noble  Britomart  heard  tell 
Of  Trojan  warres  and  Priams  citie  sackt, 
The  ruefull  story  of  Sir  Paridell, 
She  was  empassiond  at  that  piteous  aft, 
With  zelous  envy  of  Greekes  cruell  fact 
Against  that  nation,  from  whose  race  of  old 
She  heard  that  she  was  lineally  extract ; 
For  noble  Britons  sprang  from  Trojans  bold, 
And  Troynovant  was  built  of  old  Troyes  ashes  cold. 





Book  III. 
Canto  IX. 

Then,  sighing  soft  awhile,  at  last  she  thus : 
"  O  lamentable  fall  of  famous  towne ! 
Which  raignd  so  many  yeares  victorious, 
And  of  all  Asie  bore  the  soveraine  crowne, 
In  one  sad  night  consumd  and  throwen  downe:- 
What  stony  hart,  that  heares  thy  haplesse  fate, 
Is  not  empierst  with  deepe  compassiowne, 
And  makes  ensample  of  mans  wretched  state, 
That  floures  so  fresh  at  morne,  and  fades  at  evening  late  ? 

"  Behold,  Sir,  how  your  pitifull. complaint 
Hath  fownd  another  partner  of  your  payne  ; 
For  nothing  may  impresse  so  deare  constraint 
As  countries  cause,  and  commune  foes  disdayne. 
But  if  it  should  not  grieve  you  backe  agayne 
To  turne  your  course,  I  would  to  heare  desyre 
What  to  Aeneas  fell ;  sith  that  men  sayne 
He  was  not  in  the  cities  wofull  fyre 
Consum'd,  but  did  him  selfe  to  safety  retyre." 

"  Anchyses  sonne,  begott  of  Venus  fayre," 
Said  he,  "  out  of  the  flames  for  safegard  fled, 
And  with  a  remnant  did  to  sea  repayre ; 
Where  he  through  fatall  errour  long  was  led 
Full  many  yeares,  and  weetlesse  wandered 
From  shore  to  shore  emongst  the  Lybick  sandes, 
Ere  rest  he  fownd.    Much  there  he  suffered, 
And  many  perilles  past  in  forreine  landes, 
To  save  his  people  sad  from  viclours  vengefull  handes. 


"  At  last  in  Latium  he  did  arryve, 
Where  he  with  cruell  warre  was  entertaind 
Of  th'  inland  folke,  which  sought  him  backe  to  drive, 
Till  he  with  old  Latinus  was  constraind 
To  contract  wedlock,  (so  the  fates  ordaind) 
Wedlocke  contradt  in  blood,  and  eke  in  blood 
Accomplished,  that  many  deare  complaind  : 
The  rivall  slaine,  the  viclour,  through  the  flood 
Escaped  hardly,  hardly  praisd  his  wedlock  good. 

"  Yet,  after  all,  he  vidtour  did  survive, 
And  with  Latinus  did  the  kingdom  part ; 
But  after,  when  both  nations  gan  to  strive 
Into  their  names  the  title  to  convart, 
His  sonne  lulus  did  from  thence  depart 
With  all  the  warlike  youth  of  Trojans  bloud, 
And  in  long  Alba  plast  his  throne  apart ; 
Where  faire  it  florished  and  long  time  stoud, 
Till  Romulus,  renewing  it,  to  Rome  remoud." 

"  There  ;  there,"  (said  Britomart)  "  afresh  appeard 
The  glory  of  the  later  world  to  spring, 
And  Troy  againe  out  of  her  dust  was  reard 
To  sitt  in  second  seat  of  soveraine  king 
Of  all  the  world,  under  her  governing. 
But  a  third  kingdom  yet  is  to  arise 
Out  of  the  Trojans  scattered  ofspring, 
That  in  all  glory  and  great  enterprise, 
Both  first  and  second  Troy  shall  dare  to  equalise. 





Book  III. 
Canto  IX. 

"  It  Troynovant  is  hight,  that  with  the  waves 
Of  wealthy  Thamis  washed  is  along, 
Upon  whose  stubborne  neck,  (whereat  he  raves 
With  roring  rage,  and  sore  him  selfe  does  throng) 
That  all  men  feare  to  tempt  his  billowes  strong, 
She  fastned  hath  her  foot ;  which  stands  so  hy, 
That  it  a  wonder  of  the  world  is  song 
In  forreine  lands ;  and  all  which  passen  by, 
Beholding  it  from  farre,  doe  thinke  it  threates  the  skye. 

«  The  Trojan  Brute  did  first  that  citie  fownd, 
And  Hygate  made  the  meare  thereof  by  West, 
And  Overt  gate  by  North:  that  is  the  bownd 
Toward  the  land ;  two  rivers  bownd  the  rest. 
So  huge  a  scope  at  first  him  seemed  best, 
To  be  the  compasse  of  his  kingdomes  seat : 
So  huge  a  mind  could  not  in  lesser  rest, 
Ne  in  small  meares  containe  his  glory  great, 
That  Albion  had  conquered  first  by  warlike  feat.' 

"Ah!  fairest  Lady  knight,"  (said  Paridell) 
"  Pardon,  I  pray,  my  heedlesse  oversight, 
Who  had  forgot  that  whylome  I  heard  tell 
From  aged  Mnemon ;  for  my  wits  beene  light. 
Indeed  he  said,  (if  I  remember  right) 
That  of  the  antique  Trojan  stocke  there  grew 
Another  plant,  that  raught  to  wondrous  hight, 
And  far  abroad  his  mightie  braunches  threw 
Into  the  utmost  Angle  of  the  world  he  knew. 


"  For  that  same  Brute,  whom  much  he  did  advaunce 
In  all  his  speach,  was  Sylvius  his  sonne, 
Whom  having  slain  through  luckles  arrowes  glaunce, 
He  fled  for  feare  of  that  he  had  misdonne, 
Or  els  for  shame,  so  fowle  reproch  to  shonne, 
And  with  him  ledd  to  sea  an  youthly  trayne  ; 
Where  wearie  wandring  they  long  time  did  wonne, 
And  many  fortunes  prov'd  in  th'  Ocean  mayne, 
And  great  adventures  found,  that  now  were  long  to  sayne. 

"  At  last  by  fatall  course  they  driven  were 
Into  an  Island  spatious  and  brode, 
The  furthest  North  that  did  to  them  appeare : 
Which,  after  rest,  they,  seeking  farre  abrode, 
Found  it  the  fittest  soyle  for  their  abode, 
Fruitfull  of  all  thinges  fitt  for  living  foode, 
But  wholy  waste  and  void  of  peoples  trode, 
Save  an  huge  nation  of  the  Geaunts  broode 
That  fed  on  living  flesh,  and  dronck  mens  vitall  blood. 

"  Whom  he,  through  wearie  wars  and  labours  long, 
Subdewd  with  losse  of  many  Britons  bold  : 
In  which  the  great  Goemagot  of  strong 
Corineus,  and  Coulin  of  Debon  old, 
Were  overthrowne  and  laide  on  th'earth  full  cold, 
Which  quaked  under  their  so  hideous  masse; 
A  famous  history  to  bee  enrold 
In  everlasting  moniments  of  brasse, 
That  all  the  antique  Worthies  merits  far  did  passe. 

739  4  r 

Book  III. 
Canto  IX. 

Book  lit 
Canto  IX. 

"  His  worke  great  Troynovant,  his  worke  is  eke 
Faire  Lincolne,  both  renowmed  far  away  ; 
That  who  from  East  to  West  will  endlong  seeke, 
Cannot  two  fairer  Cities  find  this  day, 
Except  Cleopolis  :  so  heard  I  say 
Old  Mnemon.    Therefore,  Sir,  I  greet  you  well 
Your  countrey  kin  ;  and  you  entyrely  pray 
Of  pardon  for  the  strife,  which  late  befell 
Betwixt  us  both  unknowne."    So  ended  Paridell. 

But  all  the  while  that  he  these  speeches  spent, 
Upon  his  lips  hong  faire  Dame  Hellenore 
With  vigilant  regard  and  dew  attent, 
Fashioning  worldes  of  fancies  evermore 
In  her  fraile  witt,  that  now  her  quite  forlore  : 
The  whiles  unwares  away  her  wondring  eye 
And  greedy  eares  her  weake  hart  from  her  bore ; 
Which  he  perceiving,  ever  privily, 
In  speaking  many  false  belgardes  at  her  let  fly. 

So  long  these  knights  discoursed  diversly 
Of  straunge  affaires,  and  noble  hardiment, 
Which  they  had  past  with  mickle  jeopardy, 
That  now  the  humid  night  was  farforth  spent, 
And  hevenly  lampes  were  halfendeale  ybrent : 
Which  th'old  man  seeing  wel,  who  too  long  thought 
Every  discourse,  and  every  argument, 
Which  by  the  houres  he  measured,  besought 
Them  go  to  rest.    So  all  unto  their  bowres  were  brought. 




HE  morow  next,  so  soone  as  Phoebus  Lamp 
Bewrayed  had  the  world  with  early  light, 
And  fresh  Aurora  had  the  shady  damp 
Out  of  the  goodly  heven  amoved  quight, 
Faire  Britomart  and  that  same  Faery  knight 
Uprose,  forth  on  their  journey  for  to  wend : 
But  Paridell  complaynd,  that  his  late  fight 
With  Britomart  so  sore  did  him  offend, 
That  ryde  he  could  not,  till  his  hurts  he  did  amend. 

So  foorth  they  far'd ;  but  he  behind  them  stayd, 
Maulgre  his  host,  who  grudged  grievously 
To  house  a  guest  that  would  be  needes  obayd, 
And  of  his  owne  him  lefte  not  liberty : 
Might  wanting  measure  moveth  surquedry. 
Two  things  he  feared,  but  the  third  was  death ; 
That  fiers  youngmans  unruly  maystery ; 
His  money,  which  he  lov'd  as  living  breath ; 
And  his  faire  wife,  whom  honest  long  he  kept  uneath. 




Book  HI. 
Canto  X. 

But  patience  perforce,  he  must  abie 
What  fortune  and  his  fate  on  him  will  lay ; 
Fond  is  the  feare  that  findes  no  remedie : 
Yet  warily  he  watcheth  every  way, 
By  which  he  feareth  evill  happen  may  ; 
So  th'evill  thinkes  by  watching  to  prevent : 
Ne  doth  he  suffer  her,  nor  night  nor  day, 
Out  of  his  sight  her  selfe  once  to  absent : 
So  doth  he  punish  her,  and  eke  him  selfe  torment. 

But  Paridell  kept  better  watch  then  hee, 
A  fit  occasion  for  his  turne  to  finde. 
False  love !  why  do  men  say  thou  canst  not  see, 
And  in  their  foolish  fancy  feigne  thee  blinde, 
That  with  thy  charmes  the  sharpest  sight  doest  binde, 
And  to  thy  will  abuse  ?   Thou  walkest  free, 
And  seest  every  secret  of  the  minde  ; 
Thou  seest  all,  yet  none  at  all  sees  thee  : 
All  that  is  by  the  working  of  thy  Deitee. 

So  perfect  in  that  art  was  Paridell, 
That  he  Malbeccoes  halfen  eye  did  wyle  ; 
His  halfen  eye  he  wiled  wondrous  well, 
And  Hellenors  both  eyes  did  eke  beguyle, 
Both  eyes  and  hart  attonce,  during  the  whyle 
That  he  there  sojourned  his  woundes  to  heale ; 
That  Cupid  selfe,  it  seeing,  close  did  smyle 
To  weet  how  he  her  love  away  did  steale, 
And  bad  that  none  their  joyous  treason  should  reveale. 


The  learned  lover  lost  no  time  nor  tyde 
That  least  avantage  mote  to  him  afford, 
Yet  bore  so  faire  a  sayle,  that  none  espyde 
His  secret  drift,  till  he  her  layd  abord. 
When  so  in  open  place  and  commune  bord 
He  fortun'd  her  to  meet,  with  commune  speach 
He  courted  her ;  yet  bayted  every  word, 
That  his  ungentle  hoste  n'ote  him  appeach 
Of  vile  ungentlenesse,  or  hospitages  breach. 




Book  HI. 
Canto  X. 

But  when  apart  (if  ever  her  apart) 
He  found,  then  his  false  engins  fast  he  plyde, 
And  all  the  sleights  unbosomd  in  his  hart : 
He  sigh'd,  he  sobd,  he  swownd,  he  perdy  dyde, 
And  cast  himselfe  on  ground  her  fast  besyde  : 
Tho,  when  againe  he  him  bethought  to  live, 
He  wept,  and  wayld,  and  false  laments  belyde, 
Saying,  but  if  she  Mercie  would  him  give, 
That  he  mote  algates  dye,  yet  did  his  death  forgive. 

And  otherwhyles  with  amorous  delights 
And  pleasing  toyes  he  would  her  entertaine ; 
Now  singing  sweetly  to  surprize  her  sprights, 
Now  making  layes  of  love  and  lovers  paine, 
Bransles,  Ballads,  virelayes,  and  verses  vaine ; 
Oft  purposes,  oft  riddles,  he  devysd, 
And  thousands  like  which  flowed  in  his  braine, 
With  which  he  fed  her  fancy,  and  entysd 
To  take  to  his  new  love,  and  leave  her  old  despysd. 





Book  III. 
Canto  X. 

And  every  where  he  might,  and  everie  while, 
He  did  her  service  dewtifull,  and  sewd 
At  hand  with  humble  pride  and  pleasing  guile ; 
So  closely  yet,  that  none  but  she  it  vewd, 
Who  well  perceived  all,  and  all  indewd. 
Thus  finely  did  he  his  false  nets  dispred, 
With  which  he  many  weake  harts  had  subdewd 
Of  yore,  and  many  had  ylike  misled : 
What  wonder  then,  if  she  were  likewise  carried  ? 

No  fort  so  fensible,  no  wals  so  strong, 
But  that  continuall  battery  will  rive, 
Or  daily  siege,  through  dispurvayaunce  long 
And  lacke  of  reskewes,  will  to  parley  drive; 
And  Peece,  that  unto  parley  eare  will  give, 
Will  shortly  yield  it  selfe,  and  will  be  made 
The  vassall  of  the  victors  will  bylive  : 
That  stratageme  had  oftentimes  assayd 
This  crafty  Paramoure,  and  now  it  plaine  display'd : 

For  through  his  traines  he  her  intrapped  hath, 
That  she  her  love  and  hart  hath  wholy  sold 
To  him,  without  regard  of  gaine  or  scath, 
Or  care  of  credite,  or  of  husband  old, 
Whom  she  hath  vow'd  to  dub  a  fayre  Cucquold. 
Nought  wants  but  time  and  place,  which  shortly  shee 
Devized  hath,  and  to  her  lover  told. 
It  pleased  well :    So  well  they  both  agree : 
So  readie  rype  to  ill  ill  wemens  counsels  bee  ! 


Darke  was  the  Evening,  fit  for  lovers  stealth,  THE 
When  chaunst  Malbecco  busie  be  elsewhere,  FAERIE 
She  to  his  closet  went,  where  all  his  wealth 


Lay  hid ;  thereof  she  countlesse  summes  did  reare,  CamoX.' 
The  which  she  meant  away  with  her  to  beare  ; 
The  rest  she  fyr'd,  for  sport,  or  for  despight : 
As  Hellene,  when  she  saw  aloft  appeare 
The  Trojane  flames  and  reach  to  hevens  hight, 
Did  clap  her  hands,  and  joyed  at  that  dolefull  sight. 

This  second  Helene,  fayre  Dame  Hellenore, 
The  whiles  her  husband  ran  with  sory  haste 
To  quench  the  flames  which  she  had  tyn'd  before, 
Laught  at  his  foolish  labour  spent  in  waste, 
And  ran  into  her  lovers  armes  right  fast ; 
Where  streight  embraced  she  to  him  did  cry 
And  call  alowd  for  helpe,  ere  helpe  were  past ; 
For  lo !  that  Guest  did  beare  her  forcibly, 
And  meant  to  ravish  her,  that  rather  had  to'  dy. 

The  wretched  man  hearing  her  call  for  ayd, 
And  ready  seeing  him  with  her  to  fly, 
In  his  disquiet  mind  was  much  dismayd : 
But  when  againe  he  backeward  cast  his  eye, 
And  saw  the  wicked  fire  so  furiously 
Consume  his  hart,  and  scorch  his  Idoles  face, 
He  was  therewith  distressed  diversely, 
Ne  wist  he  how  to  turne,  nor  to  what  place : 
Was  never  wretched  man  in  such  a  wofull  cace. 



THE  Ay  when  to  him  she  cryde,  to  her  he  turnd, 

^EI^^F  And  left  the  fire ;  love  money  overcame  : 

Book  III  But'  wnen  he  marked  how  his  money  burnd, 

Canto  X.  He  left  his  wife  ;  money  did  love  disclame  : 

Both  was  he  loth  to  loose  his  loved  Dame, 
And  loth  he  leave  his  liefest  pelfe  behinde ; 
Yet,  sith  he  n'ote  save  both,  he  sav'd  that  same 
Which  was  the  dearest  to  his  dounghill  minde, 
The  God  of  his  desire,  the  joy  of  misers  blinde. 

Thus  whilest  all  things  in  troublous  uprore  were, 
And  all  men  busie  to  suppresse  the  flame, 
The  loving  couple  neede  no  reskew  feare, 
But  leasure  had  and  liberty  to  frame 
Their  purpost  flight,  free  from  all  mens  reclame ; 
And  Night,  the  patronesse  of  love-stealth  fayre, 
Gave  them  safe  conduct,  till  to  end  they  came. 
So  beene  they  gone  yfere,  a  wanton  payre 
Of  lovers  loosely  knit,  where  list  them  to  repayre. 

Soone  as  the  cruell  flames  yslaked  were, 
Malbecco,  seeing  how  his  losse  did  lye, 
Out  of  the  flames  which  he  had  quencht  whylere, 
Into  huge  waves  of  griefe  and  gealosye 
Full  deepe  emplonged  was,  and  drowned  nye 
Twixt  inward  doole  and  felonous  despight : 
He  rav'd,  he  wept,  he  stampt,  he  lowd  did  cry, 
And  all  the  passions  that  in  man  may  light 
Did  him  attonce  oppresse,  and  vex  his  caytive  spright. 


Long  thus  he  chawd  the  cud  of  inward  griefe, 
And  did  consume  his  gall  with  anguish  sore : 
Still  when  he  mused  on  his  late  mischiefe, 
Then  still  the  smart  thereof  increased  more, 
And  seemd  more  grievous  then  it  was  before. 
At  last  when  sorrow  he  saw  booted  nought, 
Ne  griefe  might  not  his  love  to  him  restore, 
He  gan  devise  how  her  he  reskew  mought : 
Ten  thousand  wayes  he  cast  in  his  confused  thought. 

At  last  resolving,  like  a  Pilgrim  pore, 
To  search  her  forth  where  so  she  might  be  fond, 
And  bearing  with  him  treasure  in  close  store, 
The  rest  he  leaves  in  ground  :  So  takes  in  hond 
To  seeke  her  endlong  both  by  sea  and  lond. 
Long  he  her  sought,  he  sought  her  far  and  nere, 
And  every  where  that  he  mote  understond 
Of  knights  and  ladies  any  meetings  were ; 
And  of  each  one  he  mett  he  tidings  did  inquere. 

But  all  in  vaine :  his  woman  was  too  wise 
Ever  to  come  into  his  clouch  againe, 
And  hee  too  simple  ever  to  surprise 
The  jolly  Paridell,  for  all  his  paine. 
One  day,  as  hee  forpassed  by  the  plaine 
With  weary  pace,  he  far  away  espide 
A  couple,  seeming  well  to  be  his  twaine, 
Which  hoved  close  under  a  forest  side, 
As  if  they  lay  in  wait,  or  els  them  selves  did  hide. 


THE  Well  weened  hee  that  those  the  same  mote  bee; 

J^S-wmit  And  as  he  better  did  their  shape  avize, 

OUEENE.  i  -  j 

gook  jjj  Him  seemed  more  their  maner  did  agree  ; 

Canto  X.  For  th'one  was  armed  all  in  warlike  wize, 

Whom  to  be  Paridell  he  did  devize ; 

And  th'other,  al  yclad  in  garments  light 

Discolourd  like  to  womanish  disguise, 

He  did  resemble  to  his  lady  bright ; 

And  ever  his  faint  hart  much  earned  at  the  sight : 

And  ever  faine  he  towards  them  would  goe, 
But  yet  durst  not  for  dread  approchen  nie, 
But  stood  aloofe,  unweeting  what  to  doe ; 
Till  that  prickt  forth  with  loves  extremity 
That  is  the  father  of  fowle  gealosy, 
He  closely  nearer  crept  the  truth  to  weet : 
But,  as  he  nigher  drew,  he  easily 
Might  scerne  that  it  was  not  his  sweetest  sweet, 
Ne  yet  her  Belamour,  the  partner  of  his  sheet : 

But  it  was  scornefull  Braggadochio, 
That  with  his  servant  Trompart  hoverd  there, 
Sith  late  he  fled  from  his  too  earnest  foe : 
Whom  such  whenas  Malbecco  spyed  clere, 
He  turned  backe,  and  would  have  fled  arere, 
Till  Trompart,  ronning  hastely,  him  did  stay, 
And  bad  before  his  soveraine  Lord  appere. 
That  was  him  loth,  yet  durst  he  not  gainesay, 
And  comming  him  before  low  louted  on  the  lay. 


The  Boaster  at  him  sternely  bent  his  browe, 
As  if  he  could  have  kild  him  with  his  looke, 
That  to  the  ground  him  meekely  made  to  bowe, 
And  awfull  terror  deepe  into  him  strooke, 
That  every  member  of  his  body  quooke. 
Said  he,  "  Thou  man  of  nought,  what  doest  thou  here 
Unfitly  furnisht  with  thy  bag  and  booke, 
Where  I  expected  one  with  shield  and  spere 
To  prove  some  deeds  of  armes  upon  an  equall  pere  ?  " 

The  wretched  man  at  his  imperious  speach 
Was  all  abasht,  and  low  prostrating  said  : 
"  Good  Sir,  let  not  my  rudenes  be  no  breach 
Unto  your  patience,  ne  be  ill  ypaid ; 
For  I  unwares  this  way  by  fortune  straid, 
A  silly  Pilgrim  driven  to  distresse, 
That  seeke  a  Lady  " — There  he  suddein  staid, 
And  did  the  rest  with  grievous  sighes  suppresse, 
While  teares  stood  in  his  eies,  few  drops  of  bitternesse. 

"  What  Lady,  man  ?  "  (said  Trompart)  "  take  good  hart, 
And  tell  thy  griefe,  if  any  hidden  lye : 
Was  never  better  time  to  shew  thy  smart 
Then  now  that  noble  succor  is  thee  by, 
That  is  the  whole  worlds  commune  remedy." 
That  chearful  word  his  weak  heart  much  did  cheare, 
And  with  vaine  hope  his  spirits  faint  supply, 
That  bold  he  sayd ;  "  O  most  redoubted  Pere  ! 
Vouchsafe  with  mild  regard  a  wretches  cace  to  heare." 






Book  III. 
Canto  X. 




Book  III. 
Canto  X. 

Then  sighing  sore,  "  It  is  not  long,"  (saide  hee) 
"  Sith  I  enjoyd  the  gentlest  Dame  alive ; 
Of  whom  a  knight,  no  knight  at  all  perdee, 
But  shame  of  all  that  doe  for  honor  strive, 
By  treacherous  deceipt  did  me  deprive  : 
Through  open  outrage  he  her  bore  away, 
And  with  fowle  force  unto  his  will  did  drive ; 
Which  al  good  knights,  that  armes  doe  bear  this  day, 
Are  bownd  for  to  revenge,  and  punish  if  they  may. 

"  And  you,  most  noble  Lord,  that  can  and  dare 
Redresse  the  wrong  of  miserable  wight, 
Cannot  employ  your  most  victorious  speare 
In  better  quarell  then  defence  of  right, 
And  for  a  Lady  gainst  a  faithlesse  knight : 
So  shall  your  glory  bee  advaunced  much, 
And  all  faire  Ladies  magnify  your  might, 
And  eke  my  selfe,  albee  I  simple  such, 
Your  worthy  paine  shall  wel  reward  with  guerdon  rich." 

With  that  out  of  his  bouget  forth  he  drew 
Great  store  of  treasure,  therewith  him  to  tempt ; 
But  he  on  it  lookt  scornefully  askew, 
As  much  disdeigning  to  be  so  misdempt, 
Or  a  war-monger  to  be  basely  nempt ; 
And  sayd ;  "  Thy  offers  base  I  greatly  loth, 
And  eke  thy  words  uncourteous  and  unkempt : 
I  tread  in  dust  thee  and  thy  money  both, 
That,  were  it  not  for  shame" — So  turned  from  him  wroth. 


But  Trompart,  that  his  maistres  humor  knew 
In  lofty  looks  to  hide  an  humble  minde, 
Was  inly  tickled  with  that  golden  vew, 
And  in  his  eare  him  rownded  close  behinde : 
Yet  stoupt  he  not,  but  lay  still  in  the  winde, 
Waiting  advauntage  on  the  pray  to  sease, 
Till  Trompart,  lowly  to  the  grownd  inclinde, 
Besought  him  his  great  corage  to  appease, 
And  pardon  simple  man  that  rash  did  him  displease. 

Big  looking  like  a  doughty  Doucepere, 
At  last  he  thus ;  "  Thou  clod  of  vilest  clay, 
I  pardon  yield,  and  with  thy  rudenes  beare ; 
But  weete  henceforth,  that  all  that  golden  pray, 
And  all  that  els  the  vaine  world  vaunten  may, 
I  loath  as  doung,  ne  deeme  my  dew  reward : 
Fame  is  my  meed,  and  glory  vertues  pay : 
But  minds  of  mortall  men  are  muchell  mard 
And  mov'd  amisse  with  massy  mucks  unmeet  regard. 

"  And  more :  I  graunt  to  thy  great  misery 
Gratious  respect ;  thy  wife  shall  backe  be  sent : 
And  that  vile  knight,  who  ever  that  he  bee, 
Which  hath  thy  lady  reft  and  knighthood  shent, 
By  Sanglamort  my  sword,  whose  deadly  dent 
The  blood  hath  of  so  many  thousands  shedd, 
I  sweare,  ere  long  shall  dearely  it  repent ; 
Ne  he  twixt  heven  and  earth  shall  hide  his  hedd, 
But  soone  he  shal  be  fownd,  and  shortly  doen  be  dedd." 


Book  III. 
Canto  X. 

The  foolish  man  thereat  woxe  wondrous  blith, 
As  if  the  word  so  spoken  were  halfe  donne, 
And  humbly  thanked  him  a  thousand  sith 
That  had  from  death  to  life  him  newly  wonne. 
Tho  forth  the  Boaster  marching  brave  begonne 
His  stolen  steed  to  thunder  furiously, 
As  if  he  heaven  and  hell  would  over-ronne, 
And  all  the  world  confound  with  cruelty ; 
That  much  Malbecco  joyed  in  his  jollity. 

Thus  long  they  three  together  travelled, 
Through  many  a  wood  and  many  an  uncouth  way, 
To  seeke  his  wife  that  was  far  wandered : 
But  those  two  sought  nought  but  the  present  pray, 
To  weete,  the  treasure  which  he  did  bewray, 
On  which  their  eies  and  harts  were  wholly  sett, 
With  purpose  how  they  might  it  best  betray ; 
For,  sith  the  howre  that  first  he  did  them  lett 
The  same  behold,  therwith  their  keene  desires  were  whett. 

It  fortuned,  as  they  together  far'd, 
They  spide  where  Paridell  came  pricking  fast 
Upon  the  plaine ;  the  which  him  selfe  prepar'd 
To  giust  with  that  brave  straunger  knight  a  cast, 
As  on  adventure  by  the  way  he  past. 
Alone  he  rode  without  his  Paragone ; 
For,  having  filcht  her  bells,  her  up  he  cast 
To  the  wide  world,  and  lett  her  fly  alone : 
He  nould  be  clogd.    So  had  he  served  many  one. 


The  gentle  Lady,  loose  at  randon  lefte, 
The  greene-wood  long  did  walke,  and  wander  wide 
At  wilde  adventure,  like  a  forlorne  wefte  ; 
Till  on  a  day  the  Satyres  her  espide 
Straying  alone  withouten  groome  or  guide : 
Her  up  they  tooke,  and  with  them  home  her  ledd, 
With  them  as  housewife  ever  to  abide, 
To  milk  their  gotes,  and  make  them  cheese  and  bredd 
And  every  one  as  commune  good  her  handeled  : 

That  shortly  she  Malbecco  has  forgott, 
And  eke  Sir  Paridell,  all  were  he  deare ; 
Who  from  her  went  to  seeke  another  lott, 
And  now  by  fortune  was  arrived  here, 
Where  those  two  guilers  with  Malbecco  were. 
Soone  as  the  old  man  saw  Sir  Paridell, 
He  fainted,  and  was  almost  dead  with  feare, 
Ne  word  he  had  to  speake  his  griefe  to  tell, 
But  to  him  louted  low,  and  greeted  goodly  well ; 

And,  after,  asked  him  for  Hellenore  : 
"  I  take  no  keepe  of  her,"  (sayd  Paridell) 
"  She  wonneth  in  the  forrest  there  before." 
So  forth  he  rode  as  his  adventure  fell ; 
The  whiles  the  Boaster  from  his  loftie  sell 
Faynd  to  alight,  something  amisse  to  mend ; 
But  the  fresh  Swayne  would  not  his  leasure  dwell, 
But  went  his  way  :  whom  when  he  passed  kend, 
He  up  remounted  light,  and  after  faind  to  wend. 





Book  III. 
Canto  X. 

"  Perdy,  nay,"  (said  Malbecco)  "  shall  ye  not ; 
But  let  him  passe  as  lightly  as  he  came  : 
For  litle  good  of  him  is  to  be  got, 
And  mickle  perill  to  bee  put  to  shame. 
But  let  us  goe  to  seeke  my  dearest  Dame, 
Whom  he  hath  left  in  yonder  forest  wyld ; 
For  of  her  safety  in  great  doubt  I  ame, 
Least  salvage  beastes  her  person  have  despoyld : 
Then  all  the  world  is  lost,  and  we  in  vaine  have  toyld." 

They  all  agree,  and  forward  them  addresse : 
"  Ah !  but,"  (said  crafty  Trompart)  "  weete  ye  well, 
That  yonder  in  that  wastefull  wildernesse 
Huge  monsters  haunt,  and  many  dangers  dwell; 
Dragons,  and  Minotaures,  and  feendes  of  hell, 
And  many  wilde  woodmen  which  robbe  and  rend 
All  traveilers  :  therefore  advise  ye  well 
Before  ye  enterprise  that  way  to  wend : 
One  may  his  journey  bring  too  soone  to  evill  end." 

Malbecco  stopt  in  great  astonishment, 
And  with  pale  eyes  fast  fixed  on  the  rest, 
Their  counsell  crav'd  in  daunger  imminent. 
Said  Trompart ;  "  You,  that  are  the  most  opprest 
With  burdein  of  great  treasure,  I  thinke  best 
Here  for  to  stay  in  safetie  behynd : 
My  Lord  and  I  will  search  the  wide  forest." 
That  counsell  pleased  not  Malbeccoes  mynd, 
For  he  was  much  afraid  him  selfe  alone  to  fynd. 


„     Then  is  it  best,"  (said  he)  "  that  ye  doe  leave 

Your  treasure  here  in  some  security, 

Either  fast  closed  in  some  hollow  greave, 

Or  buried  in  the  ground  from  jeopardy, 

Till  we  returne  againe  in  safety  : 

As  for  us  two,  least  doubt  of  us  ye  have, 

Hence  farre  away  we  will  blyndfolded  ly, 

Ne  privy  bee  unto  your  treasures  grave." 
It  pleased ;  so  he  did.    Then  they  march  forward  brave 

Now,  when  amid  the  thickest  woodes  they  were, 
They  heard  a  noyse  of  many  bagpipes  shrill, 
And  shrieking  Hububs  them  approching  nere, 
Which  all  the  forest  did  with  horrour  fill. 
That  dreadfull  sound  the  bosters  hart  did  thrill 
With  such  amazment,  that  in  hast  he  fledd, 
Ne  ever  looked  back  for  good  or  ill ; 
And  after  him  eke  fearefull  Trompart  spedd : 
The  old  man  could  not  fly,  but  fell  to  ground  half  dedd. 

Yet  afterwardes,  close  creeping  as  he  might, 
He  in  a  bush  did  hyde  his  fearefull  hedd. 
The  jolly  Satyres,  full  of  fresh  delight, 
Came  dauncing  forth,  and  with  them  nimbly  ledd 
Faire  Helenore  with  girlonds  all  bespredd, 
Whom  their  May-lady  they  had  newly  made : 
She,  proude  of  that  new  honour  which  they  redd, 
And  of  their  lovely  fellowship  full  glade, 
Daunst  lively,  and  her  face  did  with  a  Lawrell  shade. 

759  4  R 




Book  III. 
Canto  X. 




Book  III. 
Canto  X. 

The  silly  man  that  in  the  thickett  lay 
Saw  all  this  goodly  sport,  and  grieved  sore ; 
Yet  durst  he  not  against  it  doe  or  say, 
But  did  his  hart  with  bitter  thoughts  engore, 
To  see  th'unkindnes  of  his  Hellenore. 
All  day  they  daunced  with  great  lusty-hedd, 
And  with  their  horned  feet  the  greene  gras  wore, 
The  whiles  their  Gotes  upon  the  brouzes  fedd, 
Till  drouping  Phoebus  gan  to  hyde  his  golden  hedd. 

Tho  up  they  gan  their  mery  pypes  to  trusse, 
And  all  their  goodly  heardes  did  gather  rownd ; 
But  every  Satyre  first  did  give  a  busse 
To  Hellenore  ;  so  busses  did  abound. 
Now  gan  the  humid  vapour  shed  the  grownd 
With  perly  deaw,  and  th'  Earthes  gloomy  shade 
Did  dim  the  brightnesse  of  the  welkin  rownd, 
That  every  bird  and  beast  awarned  made 
To  shrowd  themselves,  whiles  sleepe  their  sences  did  invade. 

Which  when  Malbecco  saw,  out  of  the  bush 
Upon  his  handes  and  feete  he  crept  full  light, 
And  like  a  Gote  emongst  the  Gotes  did  rush ; 
That,  through  the  helpe  of  his  faire  homes  on  hight, 
And  misty  dampe  of  misconceyving  night, 
And  eke  through  likenesse  of  his  gotish  beard, 
He  did  the  better  counterfeite  aright : 
So  home  he  marcht  emongst  the  horned  heard, 
That  none  of  all  the  Satyres  him  espyde  or  heard. 


At  night,  when  all  they  went  to  sleepe,  he  vewd 
Whereas  his  lovely  wife  emongst  them  lay, 
Embraced  of  a  Satyre  rough  and  rude, 
Who  all  the  night  did  minde  his  joyous  play  : 
Nine  times  he  heard  him  come  aloft  ere  day, 
That  all  his  hart  with  gealosy  did  swell ; 
But  yet  that  nights  ensample  did  bewray 
That  not  for  nought  his  wife  them  loved  so  well, 
When  one  so  oft  a  night  did  ring  his  matins  bell. 

So  closely  as  he  could  he  to  them  crept, 
When  wearie  of  their  sport  to  sleepe  they  fell, 
And  to  his  wife,  that  now  full  soundly  slept, 
He  whispered  in  her  eare,  and  did  her  tell 
That  it  was  he  which  by  her  side  did  dwell ; 
And  therefore  prayd  her  wake  to  heare  him  plaine. 
As  one  out  of  a  dreame  not  waked  well 
She  turnd  her,  and  returned  backe  againe ; 
Yet  her  for  to  awake  he  did  the  more  constraine. 

At  last  with  irkesom  trouble  she  abrayd ; 
And  then  perceiving  that  it  was  indeed 
Her  old  Malbecco,  which  did  her  upbrayd 
With  loosenesse  of  her  love  and  loathly  deed, 
She  was  astonisht  with  exceeding  dreed, 
And  would  have  wakt  the  Satyre  by  her  syde ; 
But  he  her  prayd,  for  mercy  or  for  meed, 
To  save  his  life,  ne  let  him  be  descryde, 
But  hearken  to  his  lore,  and  all  his  counsell  hyde. 





Book  III. 
Canto  X. 

Tho  gan  he  her  perswade  to  leave  that  lewd 
And  loathsom  life,  of  God  and  man  abhord, 
And  home  returne,  where  all  should  be  renewd 
With  perfect  peace  and  bandes  of  fresh  accord, 
And  she  receivd  againe  to  bed  and  bord, 
As  if  no  trespas  ever  had  beene  donne  : 
But  she  it  all  refused  at  one  word, 
And  by  no  meanes  would  to  his  will  be  wonne, 
But  chose  emongst  the  jolly  Satyres  still  to  wonne. 

He  wooed  her  till  day-spring  he  espyde, 
But  all  in  vaine ;  and  then  turnd  to  the  heard, 
Who  butted  him  with  homes  on  every  syde, 
And  trode  downe  in  the  durt,  where  his  hore  beard 
Was  fowly  dight,  and  he  of  death  afeard. 
Early,  before  the  heavens  fairest  light 
Out  of  the  ruddy  East  was  fully  reard, 
The  heardes  out  of  their  foldes  were  loosed  quight, 
And  he  emongst  the  rest  crept  forth  in  sory  plight. 

So  soone  as  he  the  Prison-dore  did  pas, 
He  ran  as  fast  as  both  his  feet  could  beare, 
And  never  looked  who  behind  him  was, 
Ne  scarsely  who  before :  like  as  a  Beare, 
That  creeping  close  amongst  the  hives  to  reare 
An  hony-combe,  the  wakefull  dogs  espy, 
And  him  assayling  sore  his  carkas  teare, 
That  hardly  he  with  life  away  does  fly, 
Ne  stayes,  till  safe  him  selfe  he  see  from  jeopardy. 


Ne  stayd  he,  till  he  came  unto  the  place 
Where  late  his  treasure  he  entombed  had ; 
Where  when  he  found  it  not,  (for  Trompart  bace 
Had  it  purloyned  for  his  maister  bad) 
With  extreme  fury  he  became  quite  mad, 
And  ran  away,  ran  with  him  selfe  away ; 
That  who  so  straungely  had  him  seene  bestadd, 
With  upstart  haire  and  staring  eyes  dismay, 
From  Limbo  lake  him  late  escaped  sure  would  say. 

Book  III. 
Canto  X. 

High  over  hilles  and  over  dales  he  fledd, 
As  if  the  wind  him  on  his  winges  had  borne ; 
Ne  banck  nor  bush  could  stay  him,  when  he  spedd 
His  nimble  feet,  as  treading  still  on  thorne : 
Griefe,  and  despight,  and  gealosy,  and  scorne, 
Did  all  the  way  him  follow  hard  behynd ; 
And  he  himselfe  himselfe  loath'd  so  forlorne, 
So  shamefully  forlorne  of  womankynd, 
That,  as  a  Snake,  still  lurked  in  his  wounded  mynd. 

Still  fled  he  forward,  looking  backward  still ; 
Ne  stayd  his  flight  nor  fearefull  agony, 
Till  that  he  came  unto  a  rocky  hill 
Over  the  sea  suspended  dreadfully, 
That  living  creature  it  would  terrify- 
To  looke  adowne,  or  upward  to  the  hight : 
From  thence  he  threw  him  selfe  despiteously, 
All  desperate  of  his  fore-damned  spright, 
That  seemd  no  help  for  him  was  left  in  living  sight. 





Book  III. 
Canto  X. 

But  through  long  anguish  and  selfe-murdring  thought, 
He  was  so  wasted  and  forpined  quight, 
That  all  his  substance  was  consum'd  to  nought, 
And  nothing  left  but  like  an  aery  Spright, 
That  on  the  rockes  he  fell  so  flit  and  light, 
That  he  thereby  receiv'd  no  hurt  at  all ; 
But  chaunced  on  a  craggy  cliff  to  light, 
Whence  he  with  crooked  clawes  so  long  did  crall, 
That  at  the  last  he  found  a  cave  with  entrance  small. 

Into  the  same  he  creepes,  and  thenceforth  there 
Resolv'd  to  build  his  balefull  mansion 
In  drery  darkenes  and  continuall  feare 
Of  that  rocks  fall,  which  ever  and  anon 
Threates  with  huge  mine  him  to  fall  upon, 
That  he  dare  never  sleepe,  but  that  one  eye 
Still  ope  he  keepes  for  that  occasion ; 
Ne  ever  rests  he  in  tranquillity, 
The  roring  billowes  beat  his  bowre  so  boystrously. 

Ne  ever  is  he  wont  on  ought  to  feed 
But  todes  and  frogs,  his  pasture  poysonous, 
Which  in  his  cold  complexion  doe  breed 
A  filthy  blood,  or  humour  rancorous, 
Matter  of  doubt  and  dread  suspitious, 
That  doth  with  curelesse  care  consume  the  hart, 
Corrupts  the  stomacke  with  gall  vitious, 
Cros-cuts  the  liver  with  internall  smart, 
And  doth  transfixe  the  soule  with  deathes  eternall  dart. 


Yet  can  he  never  dye,  but  dying  lives, 
And  doth  himselfe  with  sorrow  new  sustaine, 
That  death  and  life  attonce  unto  him  gives, 
And  painefull  pleasure  turnes  to  pleasing  paine. 
There  dwels  he  ever,  miserable  swaine, 
Hatefull  both  to  him  selfe  and  every  wight ; 
Where  he,  through  privy  griefe  and  horrour  vaine, 
Is  woxen  so  deform'd  that  he  has  quight 
Forgot  he  was  a  man,  and  Gelosy  is  hight. 

■ , 

HATEFULL  hellish  Snake !  what  furie  furst 
Brought  thee  from  balefull  house  of  Proserpine, 
Where  in  her  bosome  she  thee  long  had  nurst, 
And  fostred  up  with  bitter  milke  of  tine, 
Fowle  Gealosy !  that  turnest  love  divine 
To  joylesse  dread,  and  mak'st  the  loving  hart 
With  hatefull  thoughts  to  languish  and  to  pine, 
And  feed  it  selfe  with  selfe-consuming  smart  ? 
Of  all  the  passions  in  the  mind  thou  vilest  art ! 

O !  let  him  far  be  banished  away, 
And  in  his  stead  let  Love  for  ever  dwell ; 
Sweete  Love,  that  doth  his  golden  wings  embay 
In  blessed  Neftar  and  pure  Pleasures  well, 
Untroubled  of  vile  feare  or  bitter  fell. 
And  ye,  faire  Ladies,  that  your  kingdomes  make 
In  th'  harts  of  men,  them  governe  wisely  well, 
And  of  faire  Britomart  ensample  take, 
That  was  as  trew  in  love  as  Turtle  to  her  make. 





Book  III. 
Canto  XI. 

Who  with  Sir  Satyrane,  as  earst  ye  red, 
Forth  ryding  from  Malbeccoes  hostlesse  hous, 
Far  off  aspyde  a  young  man,  the  which  fled 
From  an  huge  Geaunt,  that  with  hideous 
And  hatefull  outrage  long  him  chaced  thus ; 
It  was  that  Ollyphant,  the  brother  deare 
Of  that  Argante  vile  and  vitious, 
From  whom  the  Squyre  of  Dames  was  reft  whylere 
This  all  as  bad  as  she,  and  worse,  if  worse  ought  were. 

For  as  the  sister  did  in  feminine 
And  filthy  lust  exceede  all  womankinde, 
So  he  surpassed  his  sex  masculine, 
In  beastly  use,  all  that  I  ever  finde : 
Whom  when  as  Britomart  beheld  behinde 
The  fearefull  boy  so  greedily  poursew, 
She  was  emmoved  in  her  noble  minde, 
T'employ  her  puissaunce  to  his  reskew, 
And  pricked  fiercely  forward  where  she  did  him  vew. 

Ne  was  Sir  Satyrane  her  far  behinde, 
But  with  like  fiercenesse  did  ensew  the  chace. 
Whom  when  the  Gyaunt  saw,  he  soone  resinde 
His  former  suit,  and  from  them  fled  apace : 
They  after  both,  and  boldly  bad  him  bace, 
And  each  did  strive  the  other  to  outgoe  ; 
But  he  them  both  outran  a  wondrous  space, 
For  he  was  long,  and  swift  as  any  Roe, 
And  now  made  better  speed  t'escape  his  feared  foe. 


It  was  not  Satyrane,  whom  he  did  feare, 
But  Britomart  the  flowre  of  chastity ; 
For  he  the  powre  of  chaste  hands  might  not  beare, 
But  alwayes  did  their  dread  encounter  fly : 
And  now  so  fast  his  feet  he  did  apply, 
That  he  has  gotten  to  a  forrest  neare, 
Where  he  is  shrowded  in  security. 
The  wood  they  enter,  and  search  everie  where ; 
They  searched  diversely,  so  both  divided  were. 

Fayre  Britomart  so  long  him  followed, 
That  she  at  last  came  to  a  fountaine  sheare, 
By  which  there  lay  a  knight  all  wallowed 
Upon  the  grassy  ground,  and  by  him  neare 
His  haberjeon,  his  helmet,  and  his  speare : 
A  little  off  his  shield  was  rudely  throwne, 
On  which  the  winged  boy  in  colours  cleare 
Depeincled  was,  full  easie  to  be  knowne, 
And  he  thereby,  where  ever  it  in  field  was  showne. 

His  face  upon  the  grownd  did  groveling  ly, 
As  if  he  had  beene  slombring  in  the  shade ; 
That  the  brave  Mayd  would  not  for  courtesy 
Out  of  his  quiet  slomber  him  abrade, 
Nor  seeme  too  suddeinly  him  to  invade. 
Still  as  she  stood,  she  heard  with  grievous  throb 
Him  grone,  as  if  his  hart  were  peeces  made, 
And  with  most  painefull  pangs  to  sigh  and  sob, 
That  pitty  did  the  Virgins  hart  of  patience  rob. 

77 1 




Book  III. 
Canto  XI. 

At  last  forth  breaking  into  bitter  plaintes 
He  sayd ;  "  O  soverayne  Lord  !  that  sit'st  on  hye 
And  raignst  in  blis  emongst  thy  blessed  Saintes, 
How  suffrest  thou  such  shamefull  cruelty 
So  long  unwreaked  of  thine  enimy  ? 
Or  hast  thou,  Lord,  of  good  mens  cause  no  heed  ? 
Or  doth  thy  justice  sleepe  and  silent  ly  ? 
What  booteth  then  the  good  and  righteous  deed, 
If  goodnesse  find  no  grace,  nor  righteousnes  no  meed 

"  If  good  find  grace,  and  righteousnes  reward, 
Why  then  is  Amoret  in  caytive  band, 
Sith  that  more  bounteous  creature  never  far'd 
On  foot  upon  the  face  of  living  land  ? 
Or  if  that  hevenly  justice  may  withstand 
The  wrongfull  outrage  of  unrighteous  men, 
Why  then  is  Busirane  with  wicked  hand 
SufFred,  these  seven  monethes  day,  in  secret  den 
My  Lady  and  my  love  so  cruelly  to  pen ! 

"  My  Lady  and  my  love  is  cruelly  pend 
In  dolefull  darkenes  from  the  vew  of  day, 
Whilest  deadly  torments  doe  her  chast  brest  rend, 
And  the  sharpe  Steele  doth  rive  her  hart  in  tway, 
All  for  she  Scudamore  will  not  denay. 
Yet  thou,  vile  man,  vile  Scudamore,  art  sound, 
Ne  canst  her  ayde,  ne  canst  her  foe  dismay ; 
Unworthy  wretch  to  tread  upon  the  ground, 
For  whom  so  faire  a  Lady  feeles  so  sore  a  wound ! " 


There  an  huge  heape  of  singults  did  oppresse 
His  strugling  soule,  and  swelling  throbs  empeach 
His  foltring  toung  with  pangs  of  drerinesse, 
Choking  the  remnant  of  his  plaintife  speach, 
As  if  his  dayes  were  come  to  their  last  reach  : 
Which  when  she  heard,  and  saw  the  ghastly  fit 
Threatning  into  his  life  to  make  a  breach, 
Both  with  great  ruth  and  terrour  she  was  smit, 
Fearing  least  from  her  cage  the  wearie  soule  would  flit . 




Book  III. 
Canto  XI. 

Tho  stouping  downe  she  him  amoved  light  ; 
Who,  therewith  somewhat  starting,  up  gan  looke, 
And  seeing  him  behind  a  stranger  knight, 
Whereas  no  living  creature  he  mistooke, 
With  great  indignaunce  he  that  sight  forsooke, 
And,  downe  againe  himselfe  disdainfully 
Abje&ing,  th'earth  with  his  faire  forhead  strooke  : 
Which  the  bold  Virgin  seeing  gan  apply 
Fit  medcine  to  his  griefe,  and  spake  thus  courtesly  :  — 

"  Ah  gentle  knight !  whose  deepe  conceived  griefe 
Well  seemes  t'exceede  the  powre  of  patience, 
Yet,  if  that  hevenly  grace  some  goode  reliefe 
You  send,  submit  you  to  high  providence  ; 
And  ever  in  your  noble  hart  prepense, 
That  all  the  sorrow  in  the  world  is  lesse 
Then  vertues  might  and  values  confidence  : 
For  who  nill  bide  the  burden  of  distresse, 
Must  not  here  thinke  to  live ;  for  life  is  wretchednesse. 


THE  "  Therefore,  faire  Sir,  doe  comfort  to  you  take, 

QUEENE.  freely  read  what  wicked  felon  so 

Book  III.  Hath  outrag'd  you,  and  thrald  your  gentle  make. 

Canto  XL  Perhaps  this  hand  may  helpe  to  ease  your  woe, 

And  wreake  your  sorrow  on  your  cruell  foe ; 

At  least  it  faire  endevour  will  apply." 

Those  feeling  words  so  neare  the  quicke  did  goe, 

That  up  his  head  he  reared  easily, 
And,  leaning  on  his  elbowe,  these  few  words  lett  fly. 

"  What  boots  it  plaine  that  cannot  be  redrest, 
And  sow  vaine  sorrow  in  a  fruitlesse  eare, 
Sith  powre  of  hand,  nor  skill  of  learned  brest, 
Ne  worldly  price,  cannot  redeeme  my  deare 
Out  of  her  thraldome  and  continuall  feare  : 
For  he,  the  tyrant,  which  her  hath  in  ward 
By  strong  enchauntments  and  blacke  Magicke  leare, 
Hath  in  a  dungeon  deepe  her  close  embard, 
And  many  dreadfull  feends  hath  pointed  to  her  gard. 

"  There  he  tormenteth  her  most  terribly 
And  day  and  night  afflicts  with  mortall  paine, 
Because  to  yield  him  love  she  doth  deny, 
Once  to  me  yold,  not  to  be  yolde  againe : 
But  yet  by  torture  he  would  her  constraine 
Love  to  conceive  in  her  disdainfull  brest ; 
Till  so  she  doe,  she  must  in  doole  remaine, 
Ne  may  by  living  meanes  be  thence  relest  : 
What  boots  it  then  to  plaine  that  cannot  be  redrest  ?  " 


With  this  sad  hersall  of  his  heavy  stresse 
The  warlike  Damzell  was  empassiond  sore, 
And  sayd  ;  "  Sir  knight,  your  cause  is  nothing  lesse 
Then  is  your  sorrow  certes,  if  not  more ; 
For  nothing  so  much  pitty  doth  implore 
As  gentle  Ladyes  helplesse  misery  : 
But  yet,  if  please  ye  listen  to  my  lore, 
I  will,  with  proofe  of  last  extremity, 
Deliver  her  fro  thence,  or  with  her  for  you  dy." 

Book  III. 
Canto  XI. 

"  Ah  !  gentlest  knight  alive,"  (sayd  Scudamore) 
"  What  huge  heroicke  magnanimity 
Dwells  in  thy  bounteous  brest !  what  couldst  thou  mor, 
If  shee  were  thine,  and  thou  as  now  am  I  ? 
O !  spare  thy  happy  daies,  and  them  apply 
To  better  boot ;  but  let  me  die  that  ought : 
More  is  more  losse ;  one  is  enough  to  dy." 
"  Life  is  not  lost,"  (said  she)  »  for  which  is  bought 
Endlesse  renowm,  that,  more  then  death,  is  to  be  sought." 

Thus  shee  at  length  persuaded  him  to  rise, 
And  with  her  wend  to  see  what  new  successe 
Mote  him  befall  upon  new  enterprise. 
His  armes,  which  he  had  vowed  to  disprofesse, 
She  gathered  up  and  did  about  him  dresse, 
And  his  forwandred  steed  unto  him  gott : 
So  forth  they  forth  yfere  make  their  progresse, 
And  march  not  past  the  mountenaunce  of  a  sh'ott, 
11  they  arriv'd  whereas  their  purpose  they  did  plot 


There  they  dismounting  drew  their  weapons  bold, 
And  stoutly  came  unto  the  Castle  gate, 
Whereas  no  gate  they  found  them  to  withhold, 
Nor  ward  to  waite  at  morne  and  evening  late ; 
But  in  the  Porch,  that  did  them  sore  amate, 
A  flaming  fire,  ymixt  with  smouldry  smoke 
And  stinking  sulphure,  that  with  griesly  hate 
And  dreadfull  horror  did  all  entraunce  choke, 
Enforced  them  their  forward  footing  to  revoke. 

Greatly  thereat  was  Britomart  dismayd, 
Ne  in  that  stownd  wist  how  her  selfe  to  beare ; 
For  daunger  vaine  it  were  to  have  assayd 
That  cruell  element,  which  all  things  feare, 
Ne  none  can  suffer  to  approchen  neare : 
And,  turning  backe  to  Scudamour,  thus  sayd : 
"  What  monstrous  enmity  provoke  we  heare  ? 
Foolhardy  as  th'  Earthes  children,  the  which  made 
Batteill  against  the  Gods,  so  we  a  God  invade. 

"  Daunger  without  discretion  to  attempt 
Inglorious,  beastlike  is  :  therefore,  Sir  knight, 
A  read  what  course  of  you  is  safest  dempt, 
And  how  we  with  our  foe  may  come  to  fight." 
"  This  is  "  (quoth  he)  "  the  dolorous  despight, 
Which  earst  to  you  I  playnd :  for  neither  may 
This  fire  be  quencht  by  any  witt  or  might, 
Ne  yet  by  any  meanes  remov'd  away ; 
So  mighty  be  th'enchauntments  which  the  same  do  stay. 

77&  . 

Book  III. 
Canto  XI. 

"  What  is  there  ells  but  cease  these  fruitlesse  paines, 
And  leave  me  to  my  former  languishing  ? 
Faire  Amorett  must  dwell  in  wicked  chaines, 
And  Scudamore  here  die  with  sorrowing." 
"  Perdy  not  so,"  (saide  shee)  "  for  shameful  thing 
Yt  were  t'abandon  noble  chevisaunce 
For  shewe  of  perill,  without  venturing  : 
Rather  let  try  extremities  of  chaunce, 
Then  enterprised  praise  for  dread  to  disavaunce." 

Therewith,  resolv'd  to  prove  her  utmost  might, 
Her  ample  shield  she  threw  before  her  face, 
And  her  swords  point  directing  forward  right 
Assayld  the  flame ;  the  which  eftesoones  gave  place, 
And  did  it  selfe  divide  with  equall  space, 
That  through  she  passed,  as  a  thonder  bolt 
Perceth  the  yielding  ayre,  and  doth  displace 
The  soring  clouds  into  sad  showres  ymolt ; 
So  to  her  yold  the  flames,  and  did  their  force  revolt. 

Whom  whenas  Scudamour  saw  past  the  fire 
Safe  and  untoucht,  he  likewise  gan  assay 
With  greedy  will  and  envious  desire, 
And  bad  the  stubborne  flames  to  yield  him  way  : 
But  cruell  Mulciber  would  not  obay 
His  threatfull  pride,  but  did  the  more  augment 
His  mighty  rage,  and  with  imperious  sway 
Him  forst,  (maulgre)  his  fercenes  to  relent, 
And  backe  retire,  all  scorcht  and  pittifully  brent. 

777  4T 




Book  III. 
Canto  XI. 




Book  III. 
Canto  XI. 

With  huge  impatience  he  inly  swelt, 
More  for  great  sorrow  that  he  could  not  pas 
Then  for  the  burning  torment  which  he  felt ; 
That  with  fell  woodnes  he  effierced  was, 
And  wilfully  him  throwing  on  the  gras 
Did  beat  and  bounse  his  head  and  brest  ful  sore  : 
The  whiles  the  Championesse  now  entred  has 
The  utmost  rowme,  and  past  the  foremost  dore ; 
The  utmost  rowme  abounding  with  all  precious  store 

For  round  about  the  walls  yclothed  were 
With  goodly  arras  of  great  majesty, 
Woven  with  gold  and  silke,  so  close  and  nere 
That  the  rich  metall  lurked  privily, 
As  faining  to  be  hidd  from  envious  eye ; 
Yet  here,  and  there,  and  every  where,  unwares 
It  shewd  it  selfe  and  shone  unwillingly ; 
Like  a  discolourd  Snake,  whose  hidden  snares 
Through  the  greene  gras  his  long  bright  burnisht  back  declares. 

And  in  those  Tapets  weren  fashioned 
Many  faire  pourtraidls,  and  many  a  faire  feate  ; 
And  all  of  love,  and  al  of  lusty-hed, 
As  seemed  by  their  semblaunt,  did  entreat : 
And  eke  all  Cupids  warres  they  did  repeate, 
And  cruell  battailes,  which  he  whilome  fought 
Gainst  all  the  Gods  to  make  his  empire  great ; 
Besides  the  huge  massacres,  which  he  wrought 
On  mighty  kings  and  kesars  into  thraldome  brought. 


Therein  was  writt  how  often  thondring  Jove 
Had  felt  the  point  of  his  hart-percing  dart, 
And,  leaving  heavens  kingdome,  here  did  rove 
In  straunge  disguize,  to  slake  his  scalding  smart ; 
Now,  like  a  Ram,  faire  Helle  to  pervart, 
Now,  like  a  Bull,  Europa  to  withdraw  : 
Ah  !  how  the  fearefull  Ladies  tender  hart 
Did  lively  seeme  to  tremble,  when  she  saw 
The  huge  seas  under  her  t'obay  her  servaunts  law. 

Book  III. 
Canto  XL 

Soone  after  that,  into  a  golden  showre 
Him  selfe  he  chaung'd,  faire  Danae  to  vew ; 
And  through  the  roofe  of  her  strong  brasen  towre 
Did  raine  into  her  lap  an  hony  dew ; 
The  whiles  her  foolish  garde,  that  litle  knew 
Of  such  deceipt,  kept  th'yron  dore  fast  bard, 
And  watcht  that  none  should  enter  nor  issew  : 
Vaine  was  the  watch,  and  bootlesse  all  the  ward, 
Whenas  the  God  to  golden  hew  him  selfe  transfard. 

Then  was  he  turnd  into  a  snowy  Swan, 
To  win  faire  Leda  to  his  lovely  trade : 
O  wondrous  skill !  and  sweet  wit  of  the  man, 
That  her  in  daffadillies  sleeping  made 
From  scorching  heat  her  daintie  limbes  to  shade  ; 
Whiles  the  proud  Bird,  ruffing  his  fethers  wyde 
And  brushing  his  faire  brest,  did  her  invade : 
She  slept ;  yet  twixt  her  eielids  closely  spyde 
How  towards  her  he  rusht,  and  smiled  at  his  pryde. 


Book  III. 
Canto  XI. 

Then  shewd  it  how  the  Thebane  Semelee, 
Deceivd  of  gealous  Juno,  did  require 
To  see  him  in  his  soverayne  majestee 
Armd  with  his  thunderbolts  and  lightning  fire, 
Whens  dearely  she  with  death  bought  her  desire. 
But  faire  Alcmena  better  match  did  make, 
Joying  his  love  in  likenes  more  entire : 
Three  nights  in  one,  they  say,  that  for  her  sake 
He  then  did  put,  her  pleasures  lenger  to  partake. 

Twise  was  he  seene  in  soaring  Eagles  shape, 
And  with  wide  winges  to  beat  the  buxome  ayre  : 
Once,  when  he  with  Asterie  did  scape  ; 
Againe,  when  as  the  Trojane  boy  so  fay  re 
He  snatcht  from  Ida  hill,  and  with  him  bare : 
Wondrous  delight  it  was  there  to  behould 
How  the  rude  Shepheards  after  him  did  stare, 
Trembling  through  feare  least  down  he  fallen  should, 
And  often  to  him  calling  to  take  surer  hould. 

In  Satyres  shape  Antiopa  he  snatcht ; 
And  like  a  fire,  when  he  Aegin*  assayd : 
A  shepeheard,  when  Mnemosyne  he  catcht ; 
And  like  a  Serpent  to  the  Thracian  mayd. 
Whyles  thus  on  earth  great  Jove  these  pageaunts  playd, 
The  winged  boy  did  thrust  into  his  throne, 
And  scoffing  thus  unto  his  mother  sayd : 
"  Lo  !  now  the  hevens  obey  to  me  alone, 
And  take  me  for  their  Jove,  whiles  Jove  to  earth  is  gone." 


And  thou,  faire  Phoebus,  in  thy  colours  bright 
Wast  there  enwoven,  and  the  sad  distresse 
In  which  that  boy  thee  plonged,  for  despight 
That  thou  bewray'dst  his  mothers  wantonnesse, 
When  she  with  Mars  was  meynt  in  joyfulnesse  : 
Forthy  he  thrild  thee  with  a  leaden  dart 
To  love  faire  Daphne,  which  thee  loved  lesse ; 
Lesse  she  thee  lov'd  then  was  thy  just  desart, 
Yet  was  thy  love  her  death,  and  her  death  was  thy 

So  lovedst  thou  the  lusty  HyacincT: ; 
So  lovedst  thou  the  faire  Coronis  deare ; 
Yet  both  are  of  thy  haplesse  hand  extinct, 
Yet  both  in  flowres  doe  live,  and  love  thee  beare, 
The  one  a  Paunce,  the  other  a  sweet-breare : 
For  griefe  whereof,  ye  mote  have  lively  seene 
The  God  himselfe  rending  his  golden  heare, 
And  breaking  quite  his  garlond  ever  greene, 
With  other  signes  of  sorrow  and  impatient  teene. 

Both  for  those  two,  and  for  his  owne  deare  sonne, 
The  sonne  of  Climene,  he  did  repent; 
Who,  bold  to  guide  the  charet  of  the  Sunne, 
Himselfe  in  thousand  peeces  fondly  rent, 
And  all  the  world  with  flashing  fire  brent ; 
So  like,  that  all  the  walles  did  seeme  to  flame : 
Yet  cruell  Cupid,  not  herewith  content, 
Forst  him  eftsoones  to  follow  other  game, 
And  love  a  Shephards  daughter  for  his  dearest  Dame 





Book  III. 
Canto  XL 





Book  III. 
Canto  XI. 

He  loved  Isse  for  his  dearest  Dame, 
And  for  her  sake  her  cattell  fedd  awhile, 
And  for  her  sake  a  cowheard  vile  became  : 
The  servant  of  Admetus,  cowheard  vile, 
Whiles  that  from  heaven  he  suffered  exile. 
Long  were  to  tell  each  other  lovely  fitt ; 
Now,  like  a  Lyon  hunting  after  spoile ; 
Now,  like  a  stag ;  now,  like  a  faulcon  flit : 
All  which  in  that  faire  arras  was  most  lively  writ. 

Next  unto  him  was  Neptune  pictured, 
In  his  divine  resemblance  wondrous  lyke : 
His  face  was  rugged,  and  his  hoarie  hed 
Dropped  with  brackish  deaw ;  his  threeforkt  Pyke 
He  stearnly  shooke,  and  therewith  fierce  did  stryke 
The  raging  billowes,  that  on  every  syde 
They  trembling  stood,  and  made  a  long  broad  dyke, 
That  his  swift  charet  might  have  passage  wyde 
Which  foure  great  Hippodames  did  draw  in  temewise  tyde. 

His  seahorses  did  seeme  to  snort  amayne, 
And  from  their  nosethrilles  blow  the  brynie  streame, 
That  made  the  sparckling  waves  to  smoke  agayne, 
And  flame  with  gold ;  but  the  white  fomy  creame 
Did  shine  with  silver,  and  shoot  forth  his  beame. 
The  God  himselfe  did  pensive  seeme  and  sad, 
And  hong  adowne  his  head  as  he  did  dreame ; 
For  privy  love  his  brest  empierced  had, 
Ne  ought  but  deare  Bisaltis  ay  could  make  him  glad. 


He  loved  eke  Iphimedia  deare, 
And  Aeolus  faire  daughter,  Arne  hight, 
For  whom  he  turnd  him  selfe  into  a  Steare, 
And  fedd  on  fodder  to  beguile  her  sight. 
Also  to  win  Deucalions  daughter  bright, 
He  turnd  him  selfe  into  a  Dolphin  fayre  ; 
And  like  a  winged  horse  he  tooke  his  flight 
To  snaky-locke  Medusa  to  repayre, 
On  whom  he  got  faire  Pegasus  that  flitteth  in  the  ayre. 

Next  Saturne  was,  (but  who  would  ever  weene 
That  sullein  Saturne  ever  weend  to  love  ? 
Yet  love  is  sullein,  and  Saturnlike  seene, 
As  he  did  for  Erigone  it  prove) 
That  to  a  Centaure  did  him  selfe  transmove. 
So  proov'd  it  eke  that  gratious  God  of  wine, 
When  for  to  compasse  Philliras  hard  love, 
He  turnd  himselfe  into  a  fruitfull  vine, 
And  into  her  faire  bosome  made  his  grapes  decline. 

Long  were  to  tell  the  amorous  assayes, 
And  gentle  pangues,  with  which  he  maked  meeke 
The  mightie  Mars,  to  learne  his  wanton  playes ; 
How  oft  for  Venus,  and  how  often  eek 
For  many  other  Nymphes,  he  sore  did  shreek, 
With  womanish  teares,  and  with  unwarlike  smarts, 
Privily  moystening  his  horrid  cheeke  : 
There  was  he  painted  full  of  burning  dartes, 
And  many  wide  woundes  launched  through  his  inner  partes 





Book  III. 
Canto  XI. 

Ne  did  he  spare  (so  cruell  was  the  Elfe) 
His  owne  deare  mother,  (ah !  why  should  he  so?) 
Ne  did  he  spare  sometime  to  pricke  himselfe, 
That  he  might  taste  the  sweet  consuming  woe, 
Which  he  had  wrought  to  many  others  moe. 
But,  to  declare  the  mournfull  Tragedyes 
And  spoiles  wherewith  he  all  the  ground  did  strow, 
More  eath  to  number  with  how  many  eyes 
High  heven  beholdes  sad  lovers  nightly  theeveryes. 

Kings,  Queenes,  Lords,  Ladies,  knights,  and  Damsels  gent, 
Were  heap'd  together  with  the  vulgar  sort, 
And  mingled  with  the  raskall  rablement, 
Without  respe<5t  of  person  or  of  port, 
To  shew  Dan  Cupids  powre  and  great  effort : 
And  round  about  a  border  was  entrayld 
Of  broken  bowes  and  arrowes  shivered  short; 
And  a  long  bloody  river  through  them  ray  Id, 
So  lively  and  so  like  that  living  sence  it  fayld. 

And  at  the  upper  end  of  that  faire  rowme 
There  was  an  Altar  built  of  pretious  stone 
Of  passing  valew  and  of  great  renowme, 
On  which  there  stood  an  Image  all  alone 
Of  massy  gold,  which  with  his  owne  light  shone ; 
And  winges  it  had  with  sondry  colours  dight, 
More  sondry  colours  then  the  proud  Pavone 
Beares  in  his  boasted  fan,  or  Iris  bright, 
When  her  discolourd  bow  she  spreds  through  hevens  hight. 


Blyndfold  he  was ;  and  in  his  cruell  fist 
A  mortall  bow  and  arrowes  keene  did  hold, 
With  which  he  shot  at  randon,  when  him  list, 
Some  headed  with  sad  lead,  some  with  pure  gold  ; 
(Ah  man  !  beware  how  thou  those  dartes  behold.) 
A  wounded  Dragon  under  him  did  ly, 
Whose  hideous  tayle  his  lefte  foot  did  enfold, 
And  with  a  shaft  was  shot  through  either  eye, 
That  no  man  forth  might  draw,  ne  no  man  remedye. 

And  underneath  his  feet  was  written  thus, 
Unto  the  Vi£tor  of  the  Gods  this  bee  : 
And  all  the  people  in  that  ample  hous 
Did  to  that  image  bowe  their  humble  knee, 
And  oft  committed  fowle  Idolatree. 
That  wondrous  sight  faire  Britomart  amazd, 
Ne  seeing  could  her  wonder  satisfie, 
But  ever  more  and  more  upon  it  gazd, 
The  whiles  the  passing  brightnes  her  fraile  sences  dazd. 

Tho,  as  she  backward  cast  her  busie  eye 
To  search  each  secrete  of  that  goodly  sted, 
Over  the  dore  thus  written  she  did  spye, 
Bee  bold:  she  oft  and  oft  it  over-red, 
Yet  could  not  find  what  sence  it  figured : 
But  what  so  were  therein  or  writ  or  ment, 
She  was  no  whit  thereby  discouraged 
From  prosecuting  of  her  first  intent, 
But  forward  with  bold  steps  into  the  next  roome  went. 

785  4  u 

Book  III. 
Canto  XI. 




Book  III. 
Canto  XI. 

Much  fayrer  then  the  former  was  that  roome, 
And  richlier  by  many  partes  arayd ; 
For  not  with  arras  made  in  painefull  loome, 
But  with  pure  gold  it  all  was  overlayd, 
Wrought  with  wilde  Antickes,  which  their  follies  playd 
In  the  rich  metall  as  they  living  were. 
A  thousand  monstrous  formes  therein  were  made, 
Such  as  false  love  doth  oft  upon  him  weare  ; 
For  love  in  thousand  monstrous  formes  doth  oft  appeare. 

And  all  about  the  glistring  walles  were  hong 
With  warlike  spoiles  and  with  victorious  prayes 
Of  mightie  Conquerours  and  Captaines  strong, 
Which  were  whilome  captived  in  their  dayes 
To  cruell  love,  and  wrought  their  owne  decayes. 
Their  swerds  and  speres  were  broke,  and  hauberques  rent, 
And  their  proud  girlonds  of  tryumphant  bayes 
Troden  in  dust  with  fury  insolent, 
To  shew  the  viftors  might  and  mercilesse  intent. 

The  warlike  Mayd,  beholding  earnestly 
The  goodly  ordinaunce  of  this  rich  Place, 
Did  greatly  wonder  ;  ne  could  satisfy 
Her  greedy  eyes  with  gazing  a  long  space : 
But  more  she  mervaild  that  no  footings  trace 
Nor  wight  appeard,  but  wastefull  emptinesse 
And  solemne  silence  over  all  that  place : 
Straunge  thing  it  seem'd,  that  none  was  to  possesse 
So  rich  purveyaunce,  ne  them  keepe  with  carefulnesse. 


And,  as  she  lookt  about,  she  did  behold 
How  over  that  same  dore  was  likewise  writ, 
Be  bolde,  be  bolde,  and  every  where,  Be  bold ; 
That  much  she  muz'd,  yet  could  not  construe  it 
By  any  ridling  skill,  or  commune  wit. 
At  last  she  spyde  at  that  rowmes  upper  end 
Another  yron  dore,  on  which  was  writ, 
Be  not  too  bold ;  whereto  though  she  did  bend 
Her  earnest  minde,  yet  wist  not  what  it  might  intend. 




Book  III. 

Canto  XI. 

Thus  she  there  wayted  untill  eventyde, 
Yet  living  creature  none  she  saw  appeare. 
And  now  sad  shadowes  gan  the  world  to  hyde 
From  mortall  vew,  and  wrap  in  darkenes  dreare ; 
Yet  nould  she  d'off  her  weary  armes,  for  feare 
Of  secret  daunger,  ne  let  sleepe  oppresse 
Her  heavy  eyes  with  natures  burdein  deare, 
But  drew  her  selfe  aside  in  sickernesse, 
And  her  wel-pointed  wepons  did  about  her  dresse. 

■  •  ■  ■  ■  ~      ■  ■   

HO,  whenas  chearelesse  Night  ycovered  had 
Fayre  heaven  with  an  universall  clowd, 
That  every  wight  dismayd  with  darkenes  sad 
In  silence  and  in  sleepe  themselves  did  shrowd, 
She  heard  a  shrilling  Trompet  sound  alowd, 
Signe  of  nigh  battaill,  or  got  victory  : 
Nought  therewith  daunted  was  her  courage  prowd, 
But  rather  stird  to  cruell  enmity, 
Expecting  ever  when  some  foe  she  might  descry. 

With  that  an  hideous  storme  of  winde  arose, 
With  dreadfull  thunder  and  lightning  atwixt, 
And  an  earthquake,  as  if  it  streight  would  lose 
The  worlds  foundations  from  his  centre  fixt : 
A  direfull  stench  of  smoke  and  sulphure  mixt 
Ensewd,  whose  noyaunce  fild  the  fearefull  sted 
From  the  fourth  howre  of  night  untill  the  sixt ; 
Yet  the  bold  Britonesse  was  nought  ydred, 
Though  much  emmov'd,  but  stedfast  still  persevered. 

79 1 

All  suddeinly  a  stormy  whirlwind  blew 
Throughout  the  house,  that  clapped  every  dore, 
With  which  that  yron  wicket  open  flew, 
As  it  with  mighty  levers  had  bene  tore ; 
And  forth  yssewd,  as  on  the  readie  flore 
Of  some  Theatre,  a  grave  personage 
That  in  his  hand  a  braunch  of  laurell  bore, 
With  comely  haveour  and  count'nance  sage, 
Yclad  in  costly  garments  fit  for  tragicke  Stage. 

Proceeding  to  the  midst  he  stil  did  stand, 
As  if  in  minde  he  somewhat  had  to  say ; 
And  to  the  vulgare  beckning  with  his  hand, 
In  signe  of  silence,  as  to  heare  a  play, 
By  lively  actions  he  gan  bewray 
Some  argument  of  matter  passioned  : 
Which  doen,  he  backe  retyred  soft  away, 
And,  passing  by,  his  name  discovered, 
Ease,  on  his  robe  in  golden  letters  cyphered. 

The  noble  Mayd  still  standing  all  this  vewd, 
And  merveild  at  his  straunge  intendiment. 
With  that  a  joyous  fellowship  issewd 
Of  Minstrales  making  goodly  meriment, 
With  wanton  Bardes,  and  Rymers  impudent ; 
All  which  together  song  full  chearefully 
A  lay  of  loves  delight  with  sweet  concent : 
After  whom  marcht  a  jolly  company, 
In  manner  of  a  maske,  enranged  orderly. 


The  whiles  a  most  delitious  harmony 
In  full  straunge  notes  was  sweetly  heard  to  sound, 
That  the  rare  sweetnesse  of  the  melody 
The  feeble  sences  wholy  did  confound, 
And  the  frayle  soule  in  deepe  delight  nigh  drownd  : 
And,  when  it  ceast,  shrill  trompets  lowd  did  bray, 
That  their  report  did  far  away  rebound  ; 
And,  when  they  ceast,  it  gan  againe  to  play, 
The  whiles  the  maskers  marched  forth  in  trim  aray. 

The  first  was  Fansy,  like  a  lovely  Boy 
Of  rare  aspect,  and  beautie  without  peare, 
Matchable  ether  to  that  ympe  of  Troy, 
Whom  Jove  did  love  and  chose  his  cup  to  beare ; 
Or  that  same  daintie  lad,  which  was  so  deare 
To  great  Alcides,  that,  when  as  he  dyde, 
He  wailed  womanlike  with  many  a  teare, 
And  every  wood  and  every  valley  wyde 
He  filld  with  Hylas  name ;  the  Nymphes  eke  Hylas  cryde. 

His  garment  nether  was  of  silke  nor  say, 
But  paynted  plumes  in  goodly  order  dight, 
Like  as  the  sunburnt  Indians  do  aray 
Their  tawney  bodies  in  their  proudest  plight : 
As  those  same  plumes  so  seemd  he  vaine  and  light, 
That  by  his  gate  might  easily  appeare ; 
For  still  he  far'd  as  dauncing  in  delight, 
And  in  his  hand  a  windy  fan  did  beare, 
That  in  the  ydle  ayre  he  mov'd  still  here  and  theare. 


Book  III. 
Canto  XII. 

And  him  beside  marcht  amorous  Desyre, 
Who  seemd  of  ryper  yeares  then  th'other  Swayne, 
Yet  was  that  other  swayne  this  elders  syre, 
And  gave  him  being,  commune  to  them  twayne : 
His  garment  was  disguysed  very  vayne, 
And  his  embrodered  Bonet  sat  awry : 
Twixt  both  his  hands  few  sparks  he  close  did  strayne, 
Which  still  he  blew  and  kindled  busily, 
That  soone  they  life  conceiv'd,  and  forth  in  flames  did  fly. 

Next  after  him  went  Doubt,  who  was  yclad 
In  a  discolour'd  cote  of  straunge  disguyse, 
That  at  his  backe  a  brode  Capuccio  had, 
And  sleeves  dependaunt  Albanese-wyse  : 
He  lookt  askew  with  his  mistrustfull  eyes, 
And  nycely  trode,  as  thornes  lay  in  his  way, 
Or  that  the  flore  to  shrinke  he  did  avyse ; 
And  on  a  broken  reed  he  still  did  stay 
His  feeble  steps,  which  shrunck  when  hard  thereon  he  lay. 

With  him  went  Daunger,  cloth'd  in  ragged  weed 
Made  of  Beares  skin,  that  him  more  dreadfull  made ; 
Yet  his  owne  face  was  dreadfull,  ne  did  need 
Straunge  horrour  to  deforme  his  griesly  shade : 
A  net  in  th'one  hand,  and  a  rusty  blade 
In  th'other  was ;  this  Mischiefe,  that  Mishap  : 
With  th'one  his  foes  he  threatned  to  invade, 
With  th'other  he  his  friends  ment  to  enwrap ; 
For  whom  he  could  not  kill  he  practizd  to  entrap. 


Next  him  was  Feare,  all  arm'd  from  top  to  toe, 
Yet  thought  himselfe  not  safe  enough  thereby, 
But  feard  each  shadow  moving  too  or  froe ; 
And,  his  owne  armes  when  glittering  he  did  spy 
Or  clashing  heard,  he  fast  away  did  fly, 
As  ashes  pale  of  hew,  and  winged  heeld, 
And  evermore  on  Daunger  fixt  his  eye, 
Gainst  whom  he  alwayes  bent  a  brasen  shield, 
Which  his  right  hand  unarmed  fearefully  did  wield. 

With  him  went  Hope  in  rancke,  a  handsome  Mayd, 
Of  chearefull  looke  and  lovely  to  behold  : 
In  silken  samite  she  was  light  arayd, 
And  her  fayre  lockes  were  woven  up  in  gold  : 
She  alway  smyld,  and  in  her  hand  did  hold 
An  holy-water-sprinckle,  dipt  in  deowe, 
With  which  she  sprinckled  favours  manifold 
On  whom  she  list,  and  did  great  liking  sheowe, 
Great  liking  unto  many,  but  true  love  to  feowe. 

And  after  them  Dissemblaunce  and  Suspect 
Marcht  in  one  rancke,  yet  an  unequall  paire ; 
For  she  was  gentle  and  of  milde  aspect, 
Courteous  to  all  and  seeming  debonaire, 
Goodly  adorned  and  exceeding  faire  : 
Yet  was  that  all  but  paynted  and  pourloynd, 
And  her  bright  browes  were  deckt  with  borrowed  haire ; 
Her  deeds  were  forged,  and  her  words  false  coynd, 
And  alwaies  in  her  hand  two  clewes  of  silke  she  twynd. 

795  4* 




Book  III. 
Canto  XII. 

Book  III. 
Canto  XII. 

But  he  was  fowle,  ill  favoured,  and  grim, 
Under  his  eiebrowes  looking  still  askaunce  ; 
And  ever,  as  Dissemblaunce  laught  on  him, 
He  lowrd  on  her  with  daungerous  eyeglaunce, 
Shewing  his  nature  in  his  countenaunce  : 
His  rolling  eies  did  never  rest  in  place, 
But  walkte  each  where  for  feare  of  hid  mischaunce, 
Holding  a  lattis  still  before  his  face, 
Through  which  he  stil  did  peep  as  forward  he  did  pace. 

Next  him  went  Griefe  and  Fury,  matcht  yfere  ; 
Griefe  all  in  sable  sorrowfully  clad, 
Downe  hanging  his  dull  head  with  heavy  chere, 
Yet  inly  being  more  then  seeming  sad  : 
A  paire  of  Pincers  in  his  hand  he  had, 
With  which  he  pinched  people  to  the  hart, 
That  from  thenceforth  a  wretched  life  they  ladd, 
In  wilfull  languor  and  consuming  smart, 
Dying  each  day  with  inward  wounds  of  dolours  dart. 

But  Fury  was  full  ill  appareiled 
In  rags,  that  naked  nigh  she  did  appeare, 
With  ghastly  looks  and  dreadfull  drerihed ; 
And  from  her  backe  her  garments  she  did  teare, 
And  from  her  head  ofte  rente  her  snarled  heare  : 
In  her  right  hand  a  firebrand  shee  did  tosse 
About  her  head,  still  roming  here  and  there ; 
As  a  dismayed  Deare  in  chace  embost, 
Forgetfull  of  his  safety,  hath  his  right  way  lost. 


After  them  went  Displeasure  and  Pleasaunce, 
He  looking  lompish  and  full  sullein  sad, 
And  hanging  downe  his  heavy  countenaunce ; 
She  chearfull,  fresh,  and  full  of  joyaunce  glad, 
As  if  no  sorrow  she  ne  felt  ne  drad ; 
That  evill  matched  paire  they  seemd  to  bee : 
An  angry  Waspe  th'one  in  a  viall  had, 
Th'other  in  hers  an  hony-laden  Bee. 
Thus  marched  these  six  couples  forth  in  faire  degree. 




Book  III. 
Canto  XII. 

After  all  these  there  marcht  a  most  faire  Dame, 
Led  of  two  grysie  Villeins,  th'one  Despight, 
The  other  cleped  Cruelty  by  name  : 
She,  dolefull  Lady,  like  a  dreary  Spright 
Cald  by  strong  charmes  out  of  eternall  night, 
Had  Deathes  owne  ymage  figurd  in  her  face, 
Full  of  sad  signes,  fearfull  to  living  sight ; 
Yet  in  that  horror  shewd  a  seemely  grace, 
And  with  her  feeble  feete  did  move  a  comely  pace. 

Her  brest  all  naked,  as  nett  yvory 
Without  adorne  of  gold  or  silver  bright, 
Wherewith  the  Craftesman  wonts  it  beautify, 
Of  her  dew  honour  was  despoyled  quight ; 
And  a  wide  wound  therein  (O  ruefull  sight !) 
Entrenched  deep  with  knyfe  accursed  keene, 
Yet  freshly  bleeding  forth  her  fainting  spright, 
(The  worke  of  cruell  hand)  was  to  be  seene, 
That  dyde  in  sanguine  red  her  skin  all  snowy  cleene. 


At  that  wide  orifice  her  trembling  hart 
Was  drawne  forth,  and  in  silver  basin  layd, 
Quite  through  transfixed  with  a  deadly  dart, 
And  in  her  blood  yet  steeming  fresh  embayd : 
And  those  two  villeins,  which  her  steps  upstayd, 
When  her  weake  feete  could  scarcely  her  sustaine, 
And  fading  vitall  powres  gan  to  fade, 
Her  forward  still  with  torture  did  constraine, 
And  evermore  encreased  her  consuming  paine. 

Next  after  her,  the  winged  God  him  selfe 
Came  riding  on  a  Lion  ravenous, 
Taught  to  obay  the  menage  of  that  Elfe 
That  man  and  beast  with  powre  imperious 
Subdeweth  to  his  kingdome  tyrannous. 
His  blindfold  eies  he  bad  awhile  unbinde, 
That  his  proud  spoile  of  that  same  dolorous 
Faire  Dame  he  might  behold  in  perfect  kinde  ; 
Which  seene,  he  much  rejoyced  in  his  cruell  minde. 

Of  which  ful  prowd,  him  selfe  up  rearing  hye 
He  looked  round  about  with  sterne  disdayne, 
And  did  survay  his  goodly  company ; 
And,  marshalling  the  evill-ordered  trayne, 
With  that  the  darts  which  his  right  hand  did  straine 
Full  dreadfully  he  shooke,  that  all  did  quake, 
And  clapt  on  hye  his  coulourd  winges  twaine, 
That  all  his  many  it  affraide  did  make : 
Tho,  blinding  him  againe,  his  way  he  forth  did  take. 





Book  m. 

Canto  XII. 

Behinde  him  was  Reproch,  Repentaunce,  Shame  ; 
Reproch  the  first,  Shame  next,  Repent  behinde : 
Repentaunce  feeble,  sorrowfull,  and  lame ; 
Reproch  despightfull,  carelesse,  and  unkinde ; 
Shame  most  ill-favourd,  bestiall,  and  blinde : 
Shame  lowrd,  Repentaunce  sighd,  Reproch  did  scould ; 
Reproch  sharpe  stings,  Repentaunce  whips  entwinde, 
Shame  burning  brond-yrons  in  her  hand  did  hold : 
All  three  to  each  unlike,  yet  all  made  in  one  mould. 




Book  III. 
Canto  XII. 

And  after  them  a  rude  confused  rout 
Of  persons  flockt,  whose  names  is  hard  to  read : 
Emongst  them  was  sterne  Strife,  and  Anger  stout ; 
Unquiet  Care,  and  fond  Unthriftyhead ; 
Lewd  Losse  of  Time,  and  Sorrow  seeming  dead ; 
Inconstant  Chaunge,  and  false  Disloyalty ; 
Consuming  Riotise,  and  guilty  Dread 
Of  heavenly  vengeaunce  ;  faint  Infirmity  ; 
Vile  Poverty ;  and,  lastly,  Death  with  infamy. 

There  were  full  many  moe  like  maladies, 
Whose  names  and  natures  I  note  readen  well ; 
So  many  moe,  as  there  be  phantasies 
In  wavering  wemens  witt,  that  none  can  tell, 
Or  paines  in  love,  or  punishments  in  hell : 
All  which  disguized  marcht  in  masking  wise 
About  the  chamber  by  the  Damozell ; 
And  then  returned,  having  marched  thrise, 
Into  the  inner  rowme  from  whence  they  first  did  rise. 


So  soone  as  they  were  in,  the  dore  streightway 
Fast  locked,  driven  with  that  stormy  blast 
Which  first  it  opened,  and  bore  all  away. 
Then  the  brave  Maid,  which  al  this  while  was  plast 
In  secret  shade,  and  saw  both  first  and  last, 
Issewed  forth,  and  went  unto  the  dore 
To  enter  in,  but  fownd  it  locked  fast : 
It  vaine  she  thought  with  rigorous  uprore 
For  to  efforce,  when  charmes  had  closed  it  afore. 

Where  force  might  not  availe,  there  sleights  and  art 
She  cast  to  use,  both  fitt  for  hard  emprize  : 
Forthy  from  that  same  rowme  not  to  depart 
Till  morrow  next  shee  did  her  selfe  avize, 
When  that  same  Maske  againe  should  forth  arize. 
The  morrowe  next  appeard  with  joyous  cheare, 
Calling  men  to  their  daily  exercize : 
Then  she,  as  morrow  fresh,  her  selfe  did  reare 
Out  of  her  secret  stand  that  day  for  to  outweare. 

All  that  day  she  outwore  in  wandering 
And  gazing  on  that  Chambers  ornament, 
Till  that  againe  the  second  evening 
Her  covered  with  her  sable  vestiment, 
Wherewith  the  worlds  faire  beautie  she  hath  blent : 
Then,  when  the  second  watch  was  almost  past, 
That  brasen  dore  flew  open,  and  in  went 
Bold  Britomart,  as  she  had  late  forecast, 
Nether  of  ydle  showes,  nor  of  false  charmes  aghast. 


Book  III. 
Canto  XII. 

So  soone  as  she  was  entred,  rownd  about 
Shee  cast  her  eies  to  see  what  was  become 
Of  all  those  persons  which  she  saw  without : 
But  lo  !  they  streight  were  vanisht  all  and  some  ; 
Ne  living  wight  she  saw  in  all  that  roome, 
Save  that  same  woefull  Lady,  both  whose  hands 
Were  bounden  fast,  that  did  her  ill  become, 
And  her  small  waste  girt  rownd  with  yron  bands 
Upon  a  brasen  pillour,  by  the  which  she  stands. 

And  her  before  the  vile  Enchaunter  sate, 
Figuring  straunge  characters  of  his  art : 
With  living  blood  he  those  characters  wrate, 
Dreadfully  dropping  from  her  dying  hart, 
Seeming  transfixed  with  a  cruell  dart ; 
And  all  perforce  to  make  her  him  to  love. 
Ah !  who  can  love  the  worker  of  her  smart  ? 
A  thousand  charmes  he  formerly  did  prove, 
Yet  thousand  charmes  could  not  her  stedfast  hart  remove. 

Soone  as  that  virgin  knight  he  saw  in  place, 
His  wicked  bookes  in  hast  he  overthrew, 
Not  caring  his  long  labours  to  deface ; 
And,  fiercely  running  to  that  Lady  trew, 
A  murdrous  knife  out  of  his  pocket  drew, 
The  which  he  thought,  for  villeinous  despight, 
In  her  tormented  bodie  to  embrew : 
But  the  stout  Damzell,  to  him  leaping  light, 
His  cursed  hand  withheld,  and  maistered  his  might. 





Book  III. 
Canto  XII. 

11 ' 

Book  III. 
Canto  XII. 


From  her,  to  whom  his  fury  first  he  ment, 
The  wicked  weapon  rashly  he  did  wrest, 
And,  turning  to  herselfe,  his  fell  intent, 
Unwares  it  strooke  into  her  snowie  chest, 
That  litle  drops  empurpled  her  faire  brest. 
Exceeding  wroth  therewith  the  virgin  grew, 
Albe  the  wound  were  nothing  deepe  imprest, 
And  fiercely  forth  her  mortall  blade  she  drew, 
To  give  him  the  reward  for  such  vile  outrage  dew. 

So  mightily  she  smote  him,  that  to  ground 
He  fell  halfe  dead :  next  stroke  him  should  have  slaine, 
Had  not  the  Lady,  which  by  him  stood  bound, 
Dernly  unto  her  called  to  abstaine 
From  doing  him  to  dy :  For  else  her  paine 
Should  be  remedilesse ;  sith  none  but  hee 
Which  wrought  it  could  the  same  recure  againe. 
Therewith  she  stayd  her  hand,  loth  stayd  to  bee ; 
For  life  she  him  envyde,  and  long'd  revenge  to  see : 

And  to  him  said  :  "  Thou  wicked  man,  whose  meed 
For  so  huge  mischiefe  and  vile  villany 
Is  death,  or  if  that  ought  doe  death  exceed ; 
Be  sure  that  nought  may  save  thee  from  to  dy 
But  if  that  thou  this  Dame  do  presently 
Restore  unto  her  health  and  former  state : 
This  doe,  and  live,  els  dye  undoubtedly." 
He,  glad  of  life,  that  lookt  for  death  but  late, 
Did  yield  him  selfe  right  willing  to  prolong  his  date : 


And,  rising  up,  gan  streight  to  over-looke 
Those  cursed  leaves,  his  charmes  back  to  reverse. 
Full  dreadfull  thinges  out  of  that  balefull  booke 
He  red,  and  measur'd  many  a  sad  verse, 
That  horrour  gan  the  virgins  hart  to  perse, 
And  her  faire  locks  up  stared  stiffe  on  end, 
Hearing  him  those  same  bloody  lynes  reherse  ; 
And,  all  the  while  he  red,  she  did  extend 
Her  sword  high  over  him,  if  ought  he  did  offend. 

Anon  she  gan  perceive  the  house  to  quake, 
And  all  the  dores  to  rattle  round  about : 
Yet  all  that  did  not  her  dismaied  make, 
Nor  slack  her  threatfull  hand  for  daungers  dout : 
But  still  with  stedfast  eye  and  courage  stout 
Abode,  to  weet  what  end  would  come  of  all. 
At  last  that  mightie  chaine,  which  round  about 
Her  tender  waste  was  wound,  adowne  gan  fall, 
And  that  great  brasen  pillour  broke  in  peeces  small. 

The  cruell  Steele,  which  thrild  her  dying  hart, 
Fell  softly  forth,  as  of  his  owne  accord, 
And  the  wyde  wound,  which  lately  did  dispart 
Her  bleeding  brest,  and  riven  bowels  gor'd, 
Was  closed  up,  as  it  had  not  beene  bor'd ; 
And  every  part  to  safety  full  sownd, 
As  she  were  never  hurt,  was  soone  restord. 
Tho,  when  she  felt  her  selfe  to  be  unbownd 
And  perfect  hole,  prostrate  she  fell  unto  the  grownd. 

803  4  y 




Book  in. 

Canto  XII. 

THE  Before  faire  Britomart  she  fell  prostrate, 

QUEENE  Saying ;  "  Ah  noble  knight !  what  worthy  meede 

Book  III.  ^an  wretched  Lady,  quitt  from  wofull  state, 

Canto  XII.  Yield  you  in  lieu  of  this  your  gracious  deed  ? 

Your  vertue  selfe  her  owne  reward  shall  breed, 
Even  immortal  prayse  and  glory  wyde, 
Which  I  your  vassall,  by  your  prowesse  freed, 
Shall  through  the  world  make  to  be  notifyde, 
And  goodly  well  advaunce  that  goodly  well  was  tryde." 

But  Britomart,  uprearing  her  from  grownd, 
Said  :  "  Gentle  Dame,  reward  enough  I  weene, 
For  many  labours  more  then  I  have  found, 
This,  that  in  safetie  now  I  have  you  seene, 
And  meane  of  your  deliverance  have  beene. 
Henceforth,  faire  Lady,  comfort  to  you  take, 
And  put  away  remembrance  of  late  teene ; 
Insted  thereof,  know  that  your  loving  Make 
Hath  no  lesse  griefe  endured  for  your  gentle  sake." 

She  much  was  chear'd  to  heare  him  mentiond, 
Whom  of  all  living  wightes  she  loved  best. 
Then  laid  the  noble  Championesse  strong  hond 
Upon  th'enchaunter  which  had  her  distrest 
So  sore,  and  with  foule  outrages  opprest. 
With  that  great  chaine,  wherewith  not  long  ygoe 
He  bound  that  pitteous  Lady  prisoner,  now  relest, 
Himselfe  she  bound,  more  worthy  to  be  so, 
And  captive  with  her  led  to  wretchednesse  and  wo. 


Returning  back,  those  goodly  rowmes,  which  erst 
She  saw  so  rich  and  royally  arayd, 
Now  vanisht  utterly  and  cleane  subverst 
She  found,  and  all  their  glory  quite  decayd ; 
That  sight  of  such  a  chaunge  her  much  dismayd. 
Thence  forth  descending  to  that  perlous  porch, 
Those  dreadfull  flames  she  also  found  delayd 
And  quenched  quite  like  a  consumed  torch, 
That  erst  all  entrers  wont  so  cruelly  to  scorch. 

Book  III. 
Canto  XII. 

More  easie  issew  now  then  entrance  late 
She  found ;  for  now  that  fained  dreadfull  flame, 
Which  chokt  the  porch  of  that  enchaunted  gate 
And  passage  bard  to  all  that  thither  came, 
Was  vanisht  quite,  as  it  were  not  the  same, 
And  gave  her  leave  at  pleasure  forth  to  passe. 
Th'  Enchaunter  selfe,  which  all  that  fraud  did  frame 
To  have  efForst  the  love  of  that  faire  lasse, 
Seeing  his  worke  now  wasted,  deepe  engrieved  was. 

But  when  the  Vicloresse  arrived  there 
Where  late  she  left  the  pensife  Scudamore 
With  her  own  trusty  Squire,  both  full  of  feare, 
Neither  of  them  she  found  where  she  them  lore  : 
Thereat  her  noble  hart  was  stonisht  sore ; 
But  most  faire  Amoret,  whose  gentle  spright 
Now  gan  to  feede  on  hope,  which  she  before 
Conceived  had,  to  see  her  own  deare  knight, 
Being  thereof  beguyld,  was  fild  with  new  affright. 


Book  III. 
Canto  XII. 

But  he,  sad  man,  when  he  had  long  in  drede 
Awayted  there  for  Britomarts  returne, 
Yet  saw  her  not,  nor  signe  of  her  good  speed, 
His  expedition  to  despaire  did  turne, 
Misdeeming  sure  that  her  those  flames  did  burne ; 
And  therefore  gan  advize  with  her  old  Squire, 
Who  her  deare  nourslings  losse  no  lesse  did  mourne, 
Thence  to  depart  for  further  aide  t'enquire : 
Where  let  them  wend  at  will,  whilest  here  I  doe  respire.